T 


F  ADE 

*L^        *     ™-  m-  -~  *L-~& 


v; 


HAND-MADE  FABLES 


HAND-MADE   FABLES 


BY 
GEORGE    ADE 

Author  of 
"Ade's  Fables" 
"Knocking  the  Neighbours'* 
Etc.   ' 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
JOHN  T.  MCCUTCHEON 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1920 


COPYRIGHT,  1920,  BT 

GEORGE  ADE 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THAT  OP 

TRANSLATION  INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES, 

INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


EXPLANATORY 

author  is  pleased  to  put  a  preface  to  this 
JL  book,  for  the  reason  that  he  will  be  permitted 
to  refrain  from  using  "Foreword."     A   great 
many  people  who  abhor  slang  pay  to  have  their  own 
books  published  so  that  they  may  indulge  in  "Fore 
word" — which   is   hereby  designated  as  the  musk 
perfumery  of  literature. 

The  studies  in  American  vernacular  which  com 
prise  this  volume  first  appeared  in  the  Cosmopolitan 
magazine.  The  editors  of  the  magazine  have  con 
sented  to  a  reprinting  and  are  now  publicly  thanked 
by  the  author. 

Although  the  period  in  which  these  fables  appeared 
enveloped  the  Great  War  and  lapped  over  on  the 
Great  Unrest,  the  author  has  proceeded  upon  the 
theory  that  old  Human  Nature  continues  to  do 
business,  even  during  a  cataclysm. 

GEORGE  ADE. 

Hazelden  Farm,  Brook,  Indiana 
February,  1920 


M1I970 


LIST  OF  FABLES 


FABLE 


I.    The  Week-Enders  and  the  Dreadful 

Doings 3 

II.  The  Compound  Fracture        ...  16 

III.  The  Two  Sensational  Failures     .      .  20 

IV.  The  Search  for  the  Holy  Grill      .     .'  36 
V.    The  Inside  Info 45 

VI.    All  That  Triangle  Stuff     .      .      .^^47 

VII.    The  Brand  That  Was  Plucked  and 

Got  Cold 60 

VIII.     The   Civic  Improver  and   the  Cus 
tomary  Reward 63 

IX.    Almost  Getting  Back  to  Nature       .       77 

X.     The  Spotlighters  and  The  Spotter     .       81 

XI.    The  Man  Who  Wanted  His  Europe      95 

XII.     The  Kittenish   Superanns  and    the 
World-Weary  Snipes     .... 
vii 


viii  LIST  OF  FABLES 

FABLE  PAGE 

XIII.     The   Waist-Band   that    was   Taut 

up  to  the  Moment  it  gave  Way  .     126 

XIV.     The    Superguy    and    the    Double 

Harness 140 

XV.     The    Lingering    Thirst     and     the 

Boundless  Sahara      ....      143 

XVI.     The  Hard-Up  Yeoman         ...     157 

XVII.  Prince  Fortunatas  Who  Lived  in 
Easy  Street  and  Then  Moved 
Away 172 

XVIII.  The  Straight  and  Narrow  Path 
Leading  to  the  Refreshment 
Counter 186 

XIX.     The  Film-Fed  Family    ....     200 

XX.     The    Ripe    Persimmon    and    the 

Plucked  Flower 215 

XXI.     What  the  Best  People  are  NotDoing   228 

XXII.     Her  Birthday  and   the  Dwindling 

Generosity 244 

XXIII.  The  Uplift  That  Moved  Sideways     248 

XXIV.  The  Polite  Poison  Counter        .      .     259 

XXV.     The  Ninny  Who  Swam  Away  From 

the  Life  Preserver  274 


LIST  OF  FABLES  ix 


PAGE 


XXVI.     The  Twelve-Cylinder  Speed  of  the 

Leisure  Class  .  276 


XXVII.     The  Song-Bird  and  the  Cyclone     . 
XXVIII.     The  Bewildered  Maverick  ...     291 

XXIX.     The  Rise  and  Flight  of  the  Winged 

Insect 304 

XXX.     What  They  Hankered  for  and  What 

Was  Delivered  to  Them  .  318 


HAND-MADE  FABLES 


HAND-MADE  FABLES 

THE  FABLE  OF  THE  WEEK-ENDERS  AND  THE 
DREADFUL  DOINGS 

ONCE  there  was  a  City  Fellow  who  was  Black 
with  Money  and  crusted  with  Aristocracy. 
This  Flute  had  a  Country  Place  that  was 
sufficiently  near  by  to  catch  the  exclusive  Motoring 
Trade,  although  it  was  beyond  an  imaginary  State 
Line  and  situated  in  a  Commonwealth  ruled  by  the 
Zekes. 

The  Lord  of  the  Manor  was  known  to  all  the  Gen 
try  as  "Freddie"  and  the  Wife,  in  an  Outburst  of 
Originality,  had  been  dubbed  "Mrs  Freddie." 

Many  a  Visitor  being  led  out  of  the  select  Road- 
House  and  gently  steered  toward  the  Car  would  re 
mark  that,  as  a  Host,  good  old  Fred  was  a  Hound. 

During  the  Open  Season  for  Juleps,  it  delighted 
Freddie  to  have  his  Shack  filled  up  over  Sunday  with 
the  Right  Sort  and  to  pry  off  the  Lid  and  let  Joy 
be  unrefined. 

Being  far  back  from  the  Roadway,  the  Wrecking- 
Crew  could  go  as  far  as  they  liked  without  annoying 
any  one  except  the  Help. 

3 


4  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  regular  Patrons  of  the  Free  Dispensary  had 
noticed  in  the  Papers  that  a  Dry  Wave  was  en 
gulfing  the  map,  but  they  scented  no  Danger. 

It  never  occurred  to  one  of  the  Smart  Set  that 
Freddie 's  sylvan  Retreat  with  the  Landscape  Border 
could  be  disturbed  by  Legislation  primarily  intended 
to  abolish  the  practice  of  Wife-Beating. 

They  did  not  investigate  all  of  the  Provisions  in 
the  Measure  passed  by  the  tall-grass  Solons. 

They  still  believed  that  every  Man's  House  is  his 
Castle  and  if  he  chooses  to  keep  the  Electric  Lights 
turned  on,  the  People  living  ten  miles  away  have  no 
Kick  coming. 

By  strange  irony  of  Circumstance,  the  horrible 
Truth  was  revealed  to  the  unsuspecting  Urbanites 
through  the  Agency  of  a  Butler  who  had  been  dis 
charged  for  flirting  with  the  Sideboard. 

The  Ex-Menial  framed  a  cruel  Revenge. 

He  went  to  the  local  Authorities  and  Snitched. 

The  new  Law  said  that  every  Home  with  Bottles 
on  the  Shelf  is  a  Blind  Pig  and  he  who  revives  a  faint 
ing  Comrade  is  a  Bootlegger,  whether  he  owns  a 
Cash  Register  or  not. 

On  a  balmy  Saturday  P.  M.,  all  the  jolly  Souls  ac 
customed  to  remove  the  Throat-Latches  from  Satur 
day  to  Monday  were  piling  into  the  high-powered 
Buzz- Wagons  for  a  Spin  out  to  the  Home  for  Polite 
Souses. 

At  about  the  same  hour  in  the  Afternoon,  a 
daring  Constable  and  a  willing  Posse  went  Over  the 


THE  WEEK-ENDERS  £ 

Top  and  captured  the  Supply  put  in  to  meet  the 
Drouth. 

After  they  got  through  with  the  Layout,  it  would 
have  received  the  official  O.  K.  of  Billy  Sunday. 

The  Cleaners  left  nothing  behind  them  in  Glass 
Receptacles  except  Bluing  and  Mouth- Wash. 

Up  the  dusty  Highway  the  Motors  came  spinning, 
each  with  a  Cargo  of  Thirsts. 

Just  as  the  western  Sun  was  ducking  behind  the 
Hills,  the  amateur  Rum-Hounds  piled  out  at  the 
Main  Entrance  to  Liberty  Hall  with  many  a  loud 
Quip  and  merry  Gibe. 

For  the  last  Seven  Miles  they  had  been  sustained 
by  the  Vision  of  a  tall  H.  B.  with  a  Cake  of  Ice  float^ 
ing  in  it. 

They  announced  to  the  Welkin  that  they  were 
ready  to  be  Resuscitated. 

Then  the  Blow  fell.     Zowie! 

When  the  Master  of  the  House  got  the  first  Bulle* 
tin  from  the  pale  Servitors  his  Indignation  knew  no 
bounds. 

He  was  so  wrought  up  over  the  brutal  Invasion 
of  his  Rights  as  an  American  Citizen  that  he  forgot 
all  about  the  dozen  or  more  Sufferers  who  waited  in 
the  Background  with  their  Tongues  hanging  out* 

Finally  he  had  to  break  it  to  them. 

First  they  were  stunned  and  then  they  sat  up  on 
their  Hind  Legs  and  yowled. 

The  very  Idea! 

What  were  we  coming  to? 


6  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  full  Horror  of  the  Calamity  smote  them  when 
they  learned  that  not  one  trickle  of  Grog  could  be 
uncovered. 

How  can  you  give  a  Show  without  raising  the  Cur 
tain? 

Freddie  admitted  that  it  was  all  very  annoying 
but  he  urged  them  to  bear  up  until  he  could  'phone 
to  a  neighbouring  Cottage  and  get  a  few  Original 
Packages  and  then  he  allowed  that  the  Birds  would 
begin  to  sing  again  and  Life  would  assume  roseate 
Hues. 

As  previously  related,  the  Society  Barkeep  had 
not  taken  the  Trouble  to  read  all  the  Clauses  of  the 
Enactment  which  was  intended  to  make  Folks  be 
have  whether  they  wanted  to  or  not. 

The  Village  Hawkshaws  knew  that  a  Relief  Ex 
pedition  would  try  to  break  through  with  a  Supply 
of  Liquid  Nourishment  for  the  dying  Martyrs. 

They  were  listening  in  by  special  arrangement  with 
Central  and  when  a  Hireling  tried  to  enter  the  Lodge 
Gate  with  a  dandy  Assortment  of  the  principal 
Exports  of  Scotland,  France,  Italy,  and  Peoria,  he 
was  set  upon  by  the  Authorities  and  Pinched  for 
violating  the  Statute  which  says  that  any  one  who 
carries  Essence  of  Sociability  along  a  Public  Highway 
is  subject  to  a  Fine  of  $1,000  or  may  be  imprisoned  in 
the  Bastile  for  a  period  of  Six  Months. 

The  Shades  of  Night  were  falling  fast  as  the  Un 
fortunates  sat  out  on  the  Terrace,  all  dolled  up  for 
Dinner,  and  waited  and  waited  for  the  Succor  that 


THE  WEEK-ENDERS  7 

never  came.  They  had  been  taught  to  believe  that 
One  may  not  saunter  toward  the  Food  Department 
until  he  has  been  fortified  with  that  which  gurgles 
from  the  Shaker. 

How  could  any  one  think  of  going  against  a  five- 
course  Spread  until  the  Chief  of  the  Tribe  had  forced 
Extra  Dividends  upon  those  who  sat  around  waiting 
to  be  Tempted? 

They  hoped  against  Hope  until  it  became  pain 
fully  evident  that  the  Reign  of  Terror  was  upon  them 
and  then  the  Funeral  Procession  moved  in  Dismal 
Silence  toward  what  was  to  have  been  the  End  of  a 
Perfect  Day. 

Half-hearted  Suggestions  as  to  substituting  Logan 
berry  or  Grape  Juice  were  received  with  deep  Silence, 
because  it  is  better  to  ignore  one  form  of  Insult  than 
to  answer  it. 

They  surveyed  with  childish  Wonder  Many  Gob 
lets  filled  with  the  Stuff  you  see  in  Aquariums,  that 
Civil  Engineers  put  under  Bridges,  and  that  the  City 
supplies  to  Laundries. 

When  Traditions  began  to  topple  about  them  and 
Gloom  settled  upon  the  Face  of  the  Earth,  the  grief- 
stricken  Regulars  waited  for  Billy  to  relieve  the 
tense  Situation. 

Billy  was  Court  Jester. 

At  every  Dinner  Party  he  was  a  Riot. 

When  the  beaded  Bubbles  were  bursting  at  the 
Brim,  then  Billy's  Bush-League  Wheezes  would  set 
the  whole  Table  cackling. 


8  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  Matrons  put  in  a  good  part  of  their  Time  go 
ing  around  repeating  Billy's  Latest. 

His  Social  Position  was  assured  and  his  Food  and 
Drink  were  certainties  as  long  as  he  could  remember 
what  he  had  heard  in  Vaudeville. 

The  Time  had  arrived  for  him  to  earn  his  Sweet 
breads,  for  a  Blue  Fog  had  settled  over  the  Assem 
blage  and  the  Party  looked  like  a  Bloomer.  He 
tried  to  be  the  regular  little  Al  Jolson  and  he  was 
just  as  droll  as  a  Shroud. 

At  first  the  unhappy  Listeners  figured  that  pos* 
sibly  Billy  wasn't  a  guaranteed  Scream  unless  he  was 
Lit,  but  later  on  it  seemed  probable  that  small-town 
Comedy  will  not  get  across  unless  the  Audience  is 
sufficiently  Sprung  to  be  in  a  Receptive  Mood. 

Billy  died  sitting  up,  a  Knife  in  one  hand  and  a 
Fork  in  the  other. 

That  evening  the  Proceedings  were  very  Chautau- 
qua. 

For  the  first  time  in  years  the  Visitors  hearkened 
to  the  Katy-Dids. 

Up  to  that  time  the  Katy-Dids  never  had  a 
Look-in. 

They  climbed  to  the  Hay  early  and  without  the 
Aid  of  a  Night-Cap. 

Next  morning  there  was  a  Record  Attendance  at 
Breakfast. 

Instead  of  asking  for  Grape  Fruit  and  Sympathy, 
most  of  the  Kamerads  demanded  Bacon  and  Eggs. 

The  dull  Horrors  of  the  Night  Before  seemed  to  be 


10  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

more  or  less  forgotten  when  the  Sun  came  out  as 
per  Usual  and  the  Sabbath  Day  promised  to  afford 
almost  every  sort  of  Diversion  except  going  to 
Church. 

They  exchanged  Comments  on  the  harrowing 
Experience  through  which  they  had  just  passed. 

For  the  first  time  in  their  going-about  Careers 
they  had  demonstrated  that  it  is  possible  for  a  Clus 
ter  of  our  Best  People  to  survive  from  5  P.M.  to  Bed 
time  without  getting  the  Nose  wet. 

Strangely  enough,  they  seemed  to  have  come 
through  it  with  a  minimum  of  Distress,  even  though 
they  had  failed  to  live  up  to  the  time-honoured  Dic 
tum  that  every  True  Gentleman  must  have  a  slight 
Furry  Taste  as  he  moves  toward  his  Tub. 

The  fact  that  they  were  being  shut  off  from  the 
Necessities  of  Life  did  not  vex  them  while  the  day 
was  young,  because  they  had  trained  Habits  and 
knew  that  the  Longing  would  not  smite  them  until 
the  Cocktail  Hour  came  around  once  more. 

They  disported,  forgetful  of  the  Calamity  hover 
ing  in  the  Background,  while  Freddie  and  the  Missus 
tried  to  cook  up  some  Scheme  for  outwitting  the 
Oppressors. 

They  did  not  want  their  Friends  to  go  back  to 
town  and  tell  around  that  the  Dump  had  gone  blooey 
and  the  keepers  were  stingy  with  their  old  Refresh 
ments. 

Nothing  doing. 

The  Village  Pinks  were  still  Sherlocking  in  front 


THE  WEEK-ENDERS  11 

of  the  Chdteau  and  Freddie  had  no  aching  Desire  to 
move  out  of  the  Blue  Room  into  the  Calaboose. 

There  was  a  Country  Club  down  the  Road  a  piece 
and  most  of  the  Athletes  went  trailing  over  to  see  if 
they  could  connect  with  the  Pill  after  training  on  the 
Cheap  Element  which  covers  about  three-fifths  of 
the  Surface  of  the  Earth. 

Also  they  figured  they  might  snoop  around  and 
find  some  Friend  who  had  a  Locker. 

By  hiding  it  under  the  Coat  they  hoped  to  sneak 
a  few  Gulps  back  to  the  other  Unfortunates  so  that 
they  would  not  be  afraid  to  see  Darkness  come  on. 

They  found  the  Club  just  as  humid  as  a  Brick 
Oven  and  a  Notice  on  the  Bulletin  Board  that  any 
member  found  hiding  in  a  Shower  Bath  to  take  a 
Swig  out  of  a  Flask  would  be  blindfolded  and  stood 
in  front  of  a  Firing  Squad. 

At  that  kind  of  a  Golf  Club  a  good  many  Members 
will  be  compelled  to  take  up  Golf  sooner  or  later  in 
order  to  kill  Time. 

The  House-Guests  were  soon  out  on  the  Fairway, 
swinging  their  Heads  off. 

The  Match  Play  was  a  pleasant  Relief,  because 
Golf  will  make  you  forget  everything  except  the  19th 
Hole. 

Old  Mr.  Hemingway  and  young  Ernest  Blamange 
both  got  under  100  for  the  first  time  on  any  Course. 

In  addressing  for  the  Stroke  they  found  it  a 
decided  Advantage  to  see  a  Golf-Ball  instead  of  a 
Pinwheel. 


12  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

On  the  way  back  to  Desert  Island,  the  Sug 
gestion  was  ventured  by  Mr.  Hemingway  that 
possibly  a  Chap  could  line  them  out  a  little  better  if 
he  didn't  have  to  carry  a  Hang-Over  to  the  first  Tee. 

The  others  scouted  this  novel  Theory  and  assured 
Mr.  Hemingway  that  he  had  been  going  big  because 
he  improved  his  Stance. 

Once  more  the  ebbing  Day  found  the  parched 
Pilgrims  rounded  up  for  the  twilight  Jingle  and  try 
ing  to  kid  themselves  into  believing  that  they  didn't 
care  whether  they  got  it  or  not. 

By  this  time  they  were  striving  to  put  on  a  Bold 
Face  and  one  brilliant  Man  about  Town,  with  a 
Beezer  that  never  could  have  been  coloured  by  the 
use  of  Malted  Milk,  pulled  the  dear  old  Bromide 
that  he  could  drink  it  or  leave  it  alone. 

Meaning  that  he  could  drink  it  if  obtainable  or 
leave  it  alone  as  a  Last  Resort. 

The  Bunch  showed  a  good  deal  of  Courage  in  lining 
up  for  another  Hard  Night  in  the  Arid  Zone. 

They  had  been  on  the  Cart  for  two  full  days  and 
various  Phenomena  ensued. 

The  official  Clown  sat  off  by  himself,  evidently 
waiting  for  the  White  Wagon  to  come  and  take  him 
to  the  Sanatorium. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  George  Spelvin,  long 
known  as  the  head  Coffin-Trimmer  of  the  Killjoy 
Association,  seemed  to  pick  up  on  the  new  Diet  and 
developed  a  streak  of  Spoofing  and  was  quite  the 
Wag  of  the  Party. 


THE  WEEK-ENDERS  13 

The  Lady  who  had  written  a  Brochure  on  Bridge 
put  up  a  punk  Battle  and  was  cleaned  by  old  Mrs. 
Postlethwaite,  who  ordinarily  could  not  tell  Clubs 
from  Spades  after  leaning  against  two  of  the  Kind 
that  Freddie  learned  to  make  while  visiting  a  Cousin 
in  Philadelphia. 

The  notorious  Sleepyheads  wanted  to  stay  up  late 
for  the  first  time  in  History,  while  the  recognized 
Members  of  the  Milkmen's  Reception  Committee 
began  to  burn  low  at  9  P.M.  The  Chatterboxes  were 
glum  and  the  Stills  suddenly  had  Views  on  all  sorts 
of  Topics. 

When  the  Company  assembled  on  Monday  morn 
ing  to  enter  upon  their  third  day  in  the  new  Universe, 
a  good  many  of  the  Canary  Appetites  were  sitting  up 
and  begging  for  Link  Sausage  and  Waffles,  while 
their  Contempt  for  a  Poached  Egg  was  almost  too 
deep  for  Words. 

Emerson  truly  says  in  his  Essay  on  Compensa 
tion  that  those  who  would  enjoy  the  wolfish  Satisfac 
tion  of  shovelling  it  in  each  Morning  must  forego  the 
simple  Delights  of  acquiring  a  Brannigan  the  Night 
before. 

It  seemed  that  the  Mists  had  rolled  away  and, 
although  the  Programme  had  been  shy  of  Pep,  tu°- 
Death  Rate  was  unusually  Low. 

Mrs.  Meriwether,  a  very  charming  Patroness  of 
the  140-pound  Class,  remained  in  Deep  Thought  for 
several  Minutes  and  then  let  go  the  startling  Prop 
osition  that  possibly  there  were  two  Sides  to  the 


14  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Question  and  all  of  them  might  continue  to  survive 
in  Comfort  even  when  weaned  away  from  the  most 
correct  and  amiable  Customs  of  Refined  Society. 

Not  to  be  outdone,  Mr.  Glisbie,  a  Stock-Broker 
with  a  Record,  told  her  she  had  said  Something  and 
that  he  always  felt  more  Gingery  when  he  laid  off, 
and,  as  a  matter  of  Fact,  never  thought  of  taking  a 
Nip  unless  urged  to  it  by  some  Victim  of  the  Drink 
Habit. 

The  others  chimed  in  and  the  first  Thing  you  know 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freddie  were  being  toasted  with  Hot 
Coffee  as  Benefactors,  and  their  little  bone-dry  Party 
was  declared  to  be  the  most  daring  Novelty  of  the 
Season. 

Monday  was  to  be  the  last  Day,  and  there  was  a 
great  Push  toward  the  Open  Hills  and  the  fluttering 
Flags. 

Most  of  them  felt  strong  enough  for  36  holes. 

When  they  were  in  at  Noon,  all  ready  to  sit  down 
to  their  Iced  Tea  and  Lettuce  Sandwiches,  a  racing 
Roadster  dashed  up  and  a  dear  Pal  named  Harry 
came  with  the  breathless  Information  that  he  had 
under  the  Seat  a  Suitcase  filled  with  the  bonnie  Per 
fume  that  makes  Scotch  Soldiers  the  bravest  in  the 
World. 

He  expected  to  be  acclaimed  the  same  as  a  Saint 
Bernard  Dog  that  goes  up  into  the  Mountain  Pass 
and  digs  a  Traveller  out  of  the  Snow. 

Instead  of  which,  he  was  denounced  as  a  Lush  and 
complaint  was  filed  with  the  Steward  of  the  Club. 


THE  WEEK-ENDERS  15 

Mr.  Hemingway,  who  had  just  holed  a  long  Putt 
for  an  88,  told  the  Steward  that  Harry  had  smuggled 
Liquor  into  the  Club  for  the  purpose  of  corrupting 
and  dragging  down  Innocent  Men  and  Pure  Women 
who  were  trying  to  discourage  the  Traffic. 

Moral:  Nothing  is  more  disturbing  to  Established 
Routine  than  a  sudden  Burst  of  Sobriety. 


THB  FABLE  OF  THE  COMPOUND  FRACTURE 

ONE  morning  a  Court  convened  so  that  those 
who  had  picked  wrong  could  be  turned  loose. 
A  Lady  displaying  expensive  Shoes  and 
other  Evidences  of  Refinement  told  the  Judge  that 
she  had  played  out  her  String  with  a  certain  Lizard 
who  was  on  hand  wearing  a  Blue  Tie. 

All  she  wanted  was  plenty  of  Solitude  and  about 
four-fifths  of  his  gross  Income. 

Replying  to  suave  Interrogatories,  she  admitted 
that  he  was  a  dandy  Provider  and  had  just  enough 
Bad  Habits  to  make  him  Real. 

"Then  why  this  beating  against  the  Bars?"  asked 
the  Judge. 

"I'll  tell  you.  I  have  a  brother  named  Roscoe 
who  sings  Tenor  in  an  Amateur  Musical  Club  and 
won  the  Chess  Championship  of  Putnam  County 
last  Year.  Every  time  I  mention  Roscoe,  my  Hus 
band  smiles  in  the  most  provoking  Manner." 

"Has  he  ever  said  anything  to  the  discredit  of 
your  brother  Roscoe?  " 

"He  doesn't  need  to.  He  just  smiles.  It's  per 
fectly  Maddening." 

i"Is  that  all?" 

" Great  Heavens !    Isn't  that  enough? " 


THE  COMPOUND  FRACTURE  17 

The  Other  Portion  of  the  Sketch  advanced  to  Bat 
and  began  his  Recital,  quietly  and  with  artistic 
Modulation. 

The  Married  Life  had  been  Great  Stuff  until  she 
began  to  jiggle  his  Nerves. 

He  conceded  several  Points  in  her  Favour. 

She  was  a  Wonder  at  taking  care  of  the  Flat  and 
buying  at  Inside  Prices,  and  she  never  let  down  on 
her  Looks,  even  in  the  Morning. 

But  he  began  to  notice  that  every  time  he  came 
home  with  a  snappy  Anecdote  that  he  had  picked  up 
in  the  Card  Room  at  the  Club,  she  would  listen  at 
tentively  enough,  but  always  she  would  put  her  Head 
over  on  one  side,  like  a  Bird,  and  then  she  would  close 
one  Eye. 

He  didn't  mind  it  so  much  for  the  first  100  times 
or  so,  but  now  it  had  worked  on  his  Sensibilities  until 
sometimes  he  feared  that  he  was  headed  for  the 
Foolish  House. 

"Did  you  ever  ask  her  to  stop  it?"  asked  the 
sympathetic  Court. 

"How  could  you  ask  a  Woman  to  stop  closing  one 
Eye  or  cocking  the  Head  over  on  one  side  like  a 
Robin  Redbreast?" 

"That's  so.  Except  for  this  one  Peculiarity,  you 
think  she's  all  right?  " 

"Aces  and  eights!  But  I  don't  think  I  should  be 
asked  to  mail  Alimony  Checks  to  a  Woman  who  has 
been  systematically  working  for  Years  to  undermine 
my  Reason." 


18 


THE  COMPOUND  FRACTURE  19 

"Certainly  not.  We  will  head  off  any  Repetition 
of  such  cruel  Practices.  I  hereby  decree  that  you 
shall  never  tell  your  wife  another  Anecdote.  If 
you  do,  all  she  has  to  do  is  come  here  and  get  her 
Liberty  Bond  and  an  Order  for  your  Salary.  Fur 
thermore,  I  enjoin  the  Wife  from  making  mention  of 
her  brother  Roscoe.  Hereafter,  he  is  supposed  to 
be  Spoon  River.  If  she  ever  pulls  Roscoe  on  you 
again,  come  into  Court  and  you  will  be  liberated 
and  she  will  be  left  to  starve  in  the  Streets.  Court 
is  now  adjourned." 

So  they  went  home  and  got  along  elegant. 

Moral:  The  Serpent  is  helpless  unless  he  finds  an 
Apple  to  work  with. 


TH»  FABLE  OF  THE  Two  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES 

ONCE  there  was  a  Wholesaler  with  a  reg 
istered  Wife,  whom  he  had  snared  from  an 
antebellum  Country  House  in  Maryland, 
the  White  Pillars  of  which  more  than  atoned  for  the 
lack  of  Plumbing. 

He  put  in  his  Bank-Roll  as  an  offset  to  her  Class 
and  they  started  out  on  a  fifty-fifty  Basis  with  an 
assured  Rating  both  in  the  Blue  Book  and  Brad- 
street's. 

They  were  of  the  Gentry,  doubtless,  without  a 
doubt,  doubtless. 

If  two  Children  had  been  permitted  to  select  their 
own  Auspices,  they  could  not  have  found  any  better 
Picking  in  the  line  of  Parents  than  Mr.  Rutherford 
Wilton,  whose  name  was  on  the  Delivery  Wagons, 
and  his  wife  Jessamine,  with  a  Fleur-de-Lys  stamped 
on  her  hand-made  Linen  Stationery. 

When  the  first-Born  was  three  days  old  his  Par 
ents  knew  what  he  would  eat  for  Breakfast  on  the 
morning  of  his  eighteenth  Birthday,  and  the  Religi 
ous  Leanings  of  the  Girl  he  would  escort  to  the  Altar 
when  he  was  22.  Rutherford  and  Jessamine  were 
two  grand  little  Arrangers. 

Before  the  Doctor  got  out  of  the  House,  the  recent 
20 


THE  TWO  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES    21 

Arrival  had  been  told  by  the  Nurse  that  his  Hall- 
Mark  was  Oliver  Cromwell  Wilton  and  that  he  was 
to  be  educated  at  Princeton. 

When  he  was  eight  days  old,  all  of  his  People 
conferred  and  decided  that  a  schooling  in  Interna 
tional  Law  and  Modern  Languages  would  fit  him  for 
the  Diplomatic  Service.  None  of  that  Ipsy-Wipsy 
mush  or  Mother  Goose  junk  was  to  be  employed  in 
the  Early  Training  of  O.  C. 

As  soon  as  he  could  be  propped  up  he  was  shown 
a  picture  of  the  Family  Tree.  Before  he  began 
biting  at  a  Rubber  Ring  he  was  being  coached  for  a 
Career. 

Oliver  was  a  perfumed  Cherub  aged  Four  and 
wearing^Curls  when  the  Planets  once  more  trembled 
in  their  Orbits.  This  time  it  was  a  Girl. 

Eloise  Claire  had  been  with  them  nearly  six  weeks 
when  Rutherford  Wilton  one  day  discovered  the 
Mother  of  his  important  Offspring  scanning  a  Map 
of  the  World  and  weeping  softly. 

She  had  been  peering  into  the  Future.  It  seemed 
that  they  would  have  to  go  to  Europe  and  sort  over 
the  Nobility  if  they  ever  hoped  to  find  a  Husband 
suitable  for  Eloise  Claire. 

It  was  a  Pipe  that  any  Maiden  around  whom  such 
a  glorious  Project  was  already  Crystallizing  would 
grow  up  strong  and  beautiful. 

The  Plans  and  Specifications,  approved  by  a 
Board  of  Strategy  in  the  Library,  called  for  one  who 
would  sparkle  in  Conversation,  ride  a  coal-black 


22  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Steed  that  was  feared  by  all  the  Grooms,  and  in  every 
Particular  make  the  Heroine  of  a  Work  by  Mrs. 
South  worth  look  like  a  Hired  Girl. 

The  two  Sprouts  were  kept  under  Glass.  They 
were  tutored  by  Gentlewomen  in  Reduced  Circum 
stances.  Not  for  one  flickering  Moment  were  they 
permitted  to  forget  that,  even  in  the  crude  and  bar 
barous  New  World,  there  was  a  leaven  of  sure-thing 
Aristocracy. 

Oliver  was  to  be  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  with  modern 
Attachments  and  Eloise  was  to  combine  the  in 
toxicating  charms  of  Desdemona,  Cleopatra,  and 
Dolly  Madison. 

In  due  time  the  Faculty  at  Princeton  got  formal 
Notice  that  the  future  Headlight  of  the  Diplomatic 
Service  was  en  route.  He  was  bringing  with  him  an 
enormous  Cargo  of  Mythology,  Deportment,  and 
Pride  of  Ancestry.  Would  the  Authorities  assign 
him  to  Dormitory  reserved  for  those  Plumed 
"Knight.  Culture  who  had  not  been  dragged  in  the 
mire  of  tLe  Public  Schools? 

So  the  Profs  threw  the  pale  specimen  of  Veal  into 
a  Cage  of  Cane-Rushers  and  substitute  Tackles  and 
gave  him  a  chance  to  prove  that  he  was  Human. 

As  soon  as  Oliver  was  planted  in  the  Cloisters, 
preparing  himself  for  the  Court  of  St.  James,  the 
anxious  Parents  turned  their  attention  to  14-year- 
old  Eloise,  who  was  not  working  out  strictly  accord 
ing  to  the  Blue-Prints. 

In  spite  of  her  Colonial  Corpuscles  and  having 


Oliver  was  to  be  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  with  Modern  Attach 
ments,  and  Eloise  was  to  combine  the  intoxicating  charms 
of  Desdemona,  Cleopatra,  and  Dolly  Madison 


24  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Miss  Whiffett  for  a  Governess,  she  was  a  distinct 
Blah. 

She  had  been  told  1,000,000  Times  to  pull  herself 
together  and  sit  up  straight  and  be  a  regular  little 
Bright  Eyes  in  the  presence  of  Company,  but  all  the 
Talk  went  for  Sweeney. 

She  was  a  natural-born  Drooper. 

Eloise  was  lean  and  limp  and  lazy.  She  needed 
about  two  more  dippings  in  thick  Starch. 

At  the  Private  School  she  was  surrounded  by 
Husky  little  Damsels  full  of  Pep  and  Ginger.  They 
joshed  the  tired  Weakling  but  she  refused  to  don  a 
Sweater  and  play  Basket-Bali. 

Before  they  began  to  lengthen  her  Skirts  it  was 
Common  Talk  in  the  Younger  Set  that  she  Inter 
fered. 

Now  the  Mother  of  Eloise  had  been  brought  up 
to  believe  that  a  Lady  who  wishes  to  arouse  a  low 
Murmur  of  Admiration  every  time  she  advances 
into  a  Ballroom  should  be  shaped  something  like  a 
Bass  Viol.  Consequently  her  Heart  ached  every 
time  she  looked  at  Daughter  and  observed  in  her 
General  Contour  a  striking  resemblance  to  another 
Musical  Instrument,  viz.,  the  Clarinet. 

Mrs.  Wilton  tried  to  keep  herself  at  about  160 
pounds.  She  was  strong  for  the  Proud  Carriage. 
Also  a  dab  of  Colour  on  each  Cheek  and  all  that 
snappy  Work  with  the  Eyes. 

Consequently,  when  she  moved  up  the  Aisle  in 
the  Church  which  was  trying  to  be  as  High  as  any- 


THE  TWO  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES    25 

thing  in  England,"  she  was  on  her  Toes  like  a  Two- 
Year-Old.  Right  behind  her  would  come  little  Miss 
Sloppy  Weather,  showing  about  as  much  Verve  as 
one  would  expect  from  a  Kitten  left  out  in  a  Cold 
Rain. 

The  Contrast  was  fierce.  Every  Friend  of  the 
Family  felt  sorry  for  Jessamine  and  had  the  instinc 
tive  Desire  to  give  Eloise  a  Wallop  between  the 
Shoulder-Blades  and  beg  her,  for  the  love  of  Michael 
Angelo,  to  brace  up  and  try  to  overcome  the  Curva 
ture  of  the  Spine. 

But  there  was  not  enough  whalebone  in  the  De 
partment  Stores  to  give  any  Gimp  to  Eloise.  She 
was  languid  and  lanky.  If  her  Lot  had  been  cast 
in  a  less  polite  Environment,  she  would  have  been 
called  Skinny. 

When  Eloise  was  17  the  disheartened  Parents 
gave  a  Party  to  signalize  her  Entry  into  the  Social 
Life  of  the  Cut-Flower  Coterie.  It  was  supposed  to 
be  her  Coming-Out,  but  she  did  not  come.  She 
had  to  be  pushed. 

All  the  nifty  buds,  with  their  Noses  lifted  high 
above  the  Corsage  Bouquets,  sized  up  the  pale  Sliver 
who  seemed  to  be  giving  away  at  every  Hinge  in  her 
willowy  Frame,  and  said  to  themselves:  "Her  Dad 
may  own  a  Check-Book  but  she  will  never  have  a 
look-in  as  a  real  Competitor." 

They  felt  that  they  had  her  Number.  And  they 
had  it,  too — for  the  time  being.  But  Eloise  had  a 
Friend  in  Paris.  Of  which,  more  anon. 


26  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Two  days  after  Eloise  tottered  into  Society  and 
sized  it  up  with  lack-luster  Eye,  the  Mail  brought  to 
Mr.  Rutherford  Wilton  a  letter  from  the  Dean  of  the 
Department  which  was  trying  to  fashion  the  First- 
Born  into  a  second  Joseph  Choate. 

The  Letter  went  on  to  say  that  Oliver  Cromwell 
might  be  expected  Home  on  almost  any  Train.  It 
suggested  that  there  had  been  a  Miscue  at  the 
Christening.  The  Lad  had  not  flashed  any  of  the 
stem  Puritanical  qualities  commonly  associated 
with  the  name  of  the  rugged  Reformer  but  he  had 
succeeded  in  hitting  the  Gait  of  another  famous 
Character  in  History  with  whom  Oliver  Cromwell 
had  certain  Dealings. 

It  was  quaintly  pointed  out  to  Mr.  Wilton  that,  in 
view  of  his  Son's  enthusiasm  for  Activities  not  pre 
scribed  in  the  Curriculum,  and  also,  by  way  of  doping 
out  his  probable  Finish,  it  would  be  a  corking  Idea 
to  change  his  Name  to  Charles  the  First. 

The  College  felt  sorry  to  lose  one  of  the  Mainstays 
of  the  Dramatic  Club,  for  Ollie  was  counted  the  best 
Dancer  in  his  Class  and  had  been  cast  for  the  princi 
pal  Female  Role  in  the  annual  outburst  of  Musical 
Comedy.  Not  until  he  began  cutting  all  Recitations 
did  the  Authorities  make  a  sign  to  give  him  the  Gate. 

He  declined  to  meet  the  Instructors  except  so 
cially,  so  they  voted  on  him  and  he  drew  the  Tin 
ware. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilton  got  together  for  their  Cereal 
one  morning  and  read  the  Letter  and  were  knocked 


THE  TWO  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES    27 

Galley-west,  but  they  put  all  the  Blame  on  the 
President  of  the  Institution. 

The  highly  connected  Couple  was  certainly  In 
Dutch  on  the  Progeny  proposition. 

When  it  came  time  for  Picking,  it  turned  out  that 
the  two  Apples  of  Paradise  were  a  Lemon  and  a 
String  Bean. 

Parents  are  loath  to  admit  that  the  Family  Jewels 
have  come  out  of  the  Test  as  Rhinestones. 

Oliver  C.  was  back  on  the  Doorstep  with  his 
Handkerchief  under  his  Cuff  and  his  Clothes  full  of 
fumigating  Cigarettes.  He  had  grown  to  be  a  Hand 
some  Dog  with  prominent  Eyebrows  and  his  Hair 
laid  straight  back,  but  he  gave  no  outward  symptoms 
of  being  ready  to  help  Lloyd  George  solve  problems 
of  Statecraft. 

A  switch  had  to  be  made.  The  Wholesaler  took 
the  bonny  ex-collegian  by  the  Hand  and  led  him  to  a 
Bank  and  wished  him  on  to  the  Banker. 

While  Rutherford  was  pointing  out  to  Son  the 
upward  pathway  leading  to  the  interlocking  Direc 
torates,  his  Wife  kept  on  working  at  Daughter,  trying 
new  kinds  of  Shoulder-Braces  and  having  her  rubbed 
by  Beauty  Doctors. 

Two  weeks  after  Ollie  started  in  pursuit  of  the 
House  of  Morgan,  his  Father  got  word  over  the 
'Phone  to  come  and  remove  his  Property,  as  the  snor 
ing  disturbed  other  Employees  who  were  trying  to 
add  up  Figures. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  when  Oliver  Cromwell 


28  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

had  reached  the  pleasing  age  of  24  and  Eloise  Claire 
was  bent  down  under  the  weight  of  19  Summers,  the 
Domestic  Group  was  still  intact  and  it  seemed  a  safe 
Bet  that  it  would  continue  so  for  many  Moons. 

After  escaping  the  thraldom  of  Office-Hours,  the 
Heir-Presumptive  turned  down  all  Suggestions  in 
volving  Work  in  the  daytime  and  seemed  to  feel  it 
his  Destiny  to  accept  every  Invitation  which  pro 
mised  plenty  of  Wax  on  the  Floor  and  something  to 
eat  about  1  A.  M.  In  other  words,  he  became  a 
Whirling  Dervish.  He  was  a  Joke  until  the  Music 
started,  but  after  that  he  was  a  Big  Chief. 

He  could  lay  hold  of  the  kind  of  Debutante  who 
toes  in  and  is  always  getting  caught  in  Rugs,  and 
make  her  feel  that  she  was  good  enough  for  the  Rus 
sian  Ballet. 

Men  who  would  not  speak  to  him  in  the  Afternoon 
had  to  stand  back  of  the  Oleanders  at  Night  and 
glare  at  him  with  bitter  Envy. 

The  Women  Folks  along  the  Avenue  thought  he 
was  Great,  but  no  one  cared  to  have  him  around 
outside  of  Dancing-Hours. 

He  was  a  bit  of  Tinsel  on  the  Christmas  Tree  of 
Gaiety.  He  was  a  Bubble  floating  among  the 
Candelabra.  In  other  Words,  he  was  all  right  from 
his  Collar  down. 

Gradually  it  soaked  in  on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ruther 
ford  Wilton  that  they  had  laboured  for  many  years 
and  finally  given  to  the  World  a  Jumping-Jack  and 
something  to  drape  across  a  Morris  Chair. 


THE  TWO  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES    29 

Ollie  would  emerge  from  the  Flax  along  about 
Noon  each  day  and  lean  against  a  Cup  of  Coffee. 

Eloise  would  crawl  into  the  Sunlight  about  the  same 
time  and  call  faintly  for  an  Egg,  which  some  one  else 
would  have  to  open  for  her. 

While  Dad  was  up  on  the  Firing-Line,  trying  to 
stand  off  the  Pay-Roil,  and  the  Mater  was  before  the 
Research  Club,  reading  a  Paper  on  how  to  bring  up 
Children,  the  blighted  Experiments  would  loll  in 
front  of  a  cheerful  Grate  and  give  the  Hook  to  most 
of  the  People  being  featured  in  the  Society  Column. 

If  Ollie  had  enough  Fags  to  last  him  and  Ellie 
could  get  the  usual  supply  of  Ripe  Olives,  between 
the  two  of  them  it  was  the  work  of  about  an  Hour  to 
put  most  of  the  Old  Families  on  the  Hummer. 

These  two  had  been  cruel  Disappointments  in 
their  own  Set,  but  you  never  saw  a  Disappointment 
who  was  not  ready  to  award  himself  a  couple  of 
Medals. 

Late  in  the  Afternoon  the  Slim  Princess  would 
permit  herself  to  be  lifted  into  a  change  of  Costume 
and  go  undulating  away  to  a  Tea-Battle,  where  she 
would  sit  curled  up  in  a  Corner  and  get  a  much- 
needed  Rest. 

Along  about  the  time  when  Father  was  closing  his 
desk,  Ollie  would  sniff  the  Night  Air  and  begin  to 
stretch  himself  and  get  ready  for  the  long-tailed  Ef 
fect  and  the  shiny  Pumps. 

Such  was  the  layout  when  Oliver  Cromwell  was 
24  and  Eloise  Claire  was  19  and  all  the  cherished 


30  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

plans  of  the  respected  Parents  were  unmistakably  on 
the  Fritz. 

Then  a  lot  of  things  happened  to  disarrange  the 
Works. 

The  great  Wholesaler,  with  the  imposing  House 
on  the  Avenue  and  the  glittering  Brass  Sign  down 
town,  found  himself  drifting  to  Ruin.  Business 
had  taken  a  Bingo  on  the  head  and  dropped  lifeless. 
The  Orders  stopped  coming.  Collections  went 
blooey.  Securities  shriveled.  The  Money-Lender 
beat  it  to  a  Storm-Cellar. 

Mr.  Rutherford  Wilton  had  built  up  a  dandy 
large  Plant,  organized  on  a  Prosperity  basis.  When 
the  Hard  Times  smote  him,  everything  seemed  to  go 
ahead  as  usual  except  the  Business.  The  Overhead 
Charges  got  a  Hammer-Lock  on  the  Cash-Book. 
Another  one  of  those  gilt-edge  Concerns  got  ready 
to  take  the  Long  Sleep. 

Just  while  this  Disaster  was  being  cooked  up,  the 
whole  World  that  stays  up  after  9 :30  went  Nuts  over 
the  New  Dances. 

Some  of  the  Steps  were  easy  and  others  had  been 
thought  out  by  Contortionists,  but  they  were  all 
Pie  for  Oliver  Cromwell  Wilton.  After  taking  one 
hard  look  at  a  delirious  Spin  from  the  Barbary  Coast 
or  a  complicated  mess  of  Foot- Work  from  South 
America,  he  could  step  out  on  the  glazed  Surface 
and  do  the  whole  Turn  better  than  the  Gazabo  who 
wrote  it. 

If  Ollie  had  been  tolerated  in  the  days  of  the  "Blue 


THE  TWO  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES    31 

Danube"  and  the  plain  Two-Step,  let  it  be  known 
that  he  was  now  regarded  as  one  of  the  Necessities 
of  Life. 

The  Dance  Thing  became  a  raging  Epidemic. 
Chorus  Men  and  Bricklayers  and  Grass-Widows  had 
Cards  printed  and  began  to  give  Lessons. 

Ollie  did  volunteer  Stunts  in  the  more  exclusive 
Homes.  He  was  not  in  the  Diplomatic  Service,  as 
the  Folks  had  hoped,  but  for  several  Hours  out  of 
every  24  he  would  have  the  right  Fin  wrapped  around 
Nymphs  who  were  flossy  beyond  Compare.  Am 
bassadors  had  nothing  on  him. 

One  night,  in  a  Cafe  where  Food  and  Drink  had 
been  pushed  to  the  Background,  he  cut  loose  proper. 
He  was  a  Riot.  All  the  other  Trotters  ducked  to  the 
Side-Lines  and  watched  him  burn  up  the  Floor. 

The  manager  wanted  to  sign  him  up  as  a  regular 
Attraction.  Of  course  he  was  intensely  amused. 
The  very  Idea  of  a  Patrician  going  out  for  the  Coin ! 

But  there  came  a  Day  when  the  Guv'nor  got  him 
up  on  the  Carpet  and  gave  him  a  quiet  Tip  to  lay  off 
on  signing  Checks  and  work  a  Soft  Pedal  on  the 
Expense  Account. 

It  required  some  Proof  to  convince  Ollie  that  a 
Family  as  prominent  as  theirs  could  go  broke  and 
move  into  a  Flat,  but  when  the  Truth  finally  got  to 
him,  he  was  Thoughtful  for  the  first  time  in  His  Life. 

Just  when  the  Dancing  Fever  began  to  claim  Vic 
tims  in  every  Station  of  Life,  the  Female  Sex  was 
jarred  by  another  French  Revolution. 


32  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

One  cruel  Dictate  from  Paris  and  the  time- 
honoured  Hip,  instead  of  being  regarded  as  an 
Ornament,  was  classed  as  a  Deformity.  The  Women 
woke  up  one  morning  and  learned  that  it  was  a  Mis 
fortune  to  have  a  Shape. 

In  order  to  wear  the  new  Modes  and  get  away  with 
it,  the  Devotee  of  Fashion  had  to  be  about  8  inches 
wide,  all  the  way  up  and  down,  with  Parallel  Bound 
aries  and,  furthermore,  she  was  required  to  stand  in 
a  depressed  and  crouching  Attitude,  as  if  she  had 
started  to  pick  a  Flower  and — changed  her  Mind. 

Every  Modiste  had  a  hard  time  with  her  terrified 
Slaves.  Some  of  them  were  constructed  so  that  they 
did  not  dare  to  remove  the  Scaffolding  as  per  Instruc 
tions.  They  tried  in  vain  to  sag  at  the  Knees  and 
take  all  Responsibility  away  from  the  Vertebrae. 
Many  learned,  to  their  Horror,  that  they  were  not 
Collapsible. 

But  say!  The  He-Dressmaker  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Paix  who  decreed  that  My  Lady  shall  be  shaped  like 
a  Splinter  and  as  loose  as  Spaghetti  must  have  been 
pulling  for  Eloise  Claire. 

She  had  been  rehearsing  for  twenty  years  to  look 
like  the  letter  S  and  drag  her  Feet  when  she  walked. 

She  did  not  have  to  take  any  Lessons  in  order  to 
acquire  that  Sloucher  Slink. 

All  she  had  to  do  was  to  remove  a  few  Things  un 
derneath  and  allow  the  shimmering  Fabrics  to  adhere 
closely  to  her  Osseous  Structure,  and  she  was  It. 

For  years  her  Friends  had  been  watching  the  poor 


THE  TWO  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES    33 

Angleworm  crawl  about,  and  their  only   Comment 
had  been,  "  Poor  Thing ! " 

She  was  just  as  pale  and  emaciated  and  Hungry 
as  ever,  the  Arms  floating  idly  and  the  front  part 
of  her  all  caved  in,  but  now  these  same  Critics 
gazed  at  her  pop-eyed  as  she  went  moping  by  and 
remarked : 

"Ain't  she  wonderful!" 

Mrs.  Rutherford  Wilton  tried  to  discard  her  Figure 
and  get  into  line  by  cutting  down  on  Material  and 
letting  the  Stuff  hang  straight;  but  Candor  compels 
the  Admission  that  she  and  all  of  the  other  Chunky 
Ones  were  very  Bloshky. 

They  could  tuck  in  below,  but  they  couldn't  get 
that  wonderful  S  effect.  Jessamine  looked  more 
like  the  letter  O. 

Eloise  Claire  was  the  only  one  who  could  slip  on 
just  about  enough  Silk  to  make  a  small  American 
Flag  and  slap  a  little  Soup-Bowl  on  one  side  of  her 
Coiffure  and  look  exactly  like  the  Pictures  in  the 
back  part  of  the  Magazine. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  record  the  Fact  that  sometimes 
a  Sky-Scraper  can  be  built  on  the  foundation  of  a 
Bungalow. 

Just  when  Rutherford  Wilton  was  getting  ready 
to  put  Shutters  on  the  Wholesale  House  and  take  the 
Count,  the  only  Son  pocketed  his  Pride  and  began 
to  give  Tango  Lessons  at  $50  an  Hour. 

Women  who  were  old  enough  to  know  better,  and 
demure  little  Flappers  who  should  have  been  dressing 


She  was  just  as  pale  and  emaciated  and  Hungry  as  ever, 
the  Arms  floating  idly  and  the  front  part  of  her  all  caved  in, 
but  now  these  same  Critics  gazed  at  her  pop-eyed  as  she  went 
moping  by  and  remarked,  "Ain't  she  wonderful  1" 


THE  TWO  SENSATIONAL  FAILURES    35 

their  Dolls,  and  flaccid  Clubmen  with  hurty  Feet 
stood  in  line  and  begged  for  Lessons. 

Did  the  Family  lose  Caste?  On  the  contrary. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilton  learned  that  they  were  ac 
quiring  new  Distinction  as  Parents  of  the  Cracker- 
jack  who  had  given  to  the  World  the  famous  Wilton 
Walk  and  an  improved  style  of  Knee-Action  to  be 
used  in  the  Trot. 

Ollie  slipped  his  poor  old  Dad  enough  Kale  to  tide 
him  over.  As  we  go  to  Press,  the  grateful  Parent  is 
still  at  his  Desk,  figuring  confidently  on  a  Business 
Revival. 

As  for  Eloise  Claire,  she  put  all  the  Friends  of  her 
Youth  into  the  Nine-Hole  and  kept  them  there. 
They  could  not  Bant  fast  enough  to  keep  up  with 
her. 

She  is  still  undecided  between  the  blond  Duck  with 
the  Harvard  Accent  and  a  future  owner  of  the  Steel 
Mills  but  whichever  way  she  jumps,  her  dear  old 
Father  will  always  know  where  to  go  and  make  a 
quick  Touch. 

Moral:  If  Luck  breaks  for  you,  any  Liability  may 
become  an  Asset. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLT  GRILL 

ONCE  there  was  a  Hired  Hand  who  felt  that 
he  was  cut  out  to  be  Somebody. 
He  wore  gloves  when  he  toiled  and  on  Sun 
days  affected  sheet-iron  Shoes  pointed  at  the  End. 

This  Freckled  Swain,  whose  name  was  Ransom, 
wanted  to  hop  on  the  Inter-Reuben  and  go  zipping 
away  to  the  Great  World. 

He  wanted  to  live  in  a  Big  Town  where  he  would 
not  have  to  walk  on  the  Plowed  Ground  and  where 
he  could  get  something  Good  to  Eat.  He  was  tired 
of  the  plain  Vittles  out  on  the  Ranch.  They  very 
seldom  had  anything  on  the  table  except  Chicken 
with  Gravy,  Salt-Rising  Bread,  Milk,  seven  or  eight 
Vegetables,  Crulls,  Cookies,  Apple  Butter,  Whortle 
berry  Pie,  Light  Biscuit,  Spare  Ribs,  Pig's  Feet, 
Hickory  Nut  Cake  and  such  like. 

This  thing  of  squaring  up  every  G.  M.  to  the  same 
old  Lay-Out  of  home-made  Sausage,  Buckwheat 
Cakes,  Recent  Eggs,  Fried  Mush  and  Mother's 
Coffee,  was  begining  to  pall  on  him.  Often  he 
dreamt  of  being  in  the  Metropolis,  where  he  could 
get  an  Oyster  Stew,  Sardines  and  Ice  Cream  in  the 
Winter  Time. 
s  At  last  his  Dream  came  out  of  the  Box.  He  went 

36 


37 


38  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

up  to  the  City  to  attend  a  Law  School  and  found 
himself  domiciled  in  a  Refined  Joint  that  was  a  cross 
between  a  Salon  and  a  Beanery. 

It  was  one  of  those  Regular  Places  kept  by  a  thin 
Lady  who  had  once  ridden  in  her  Own  Carriage. 

Her  Long  Suit  was  Home  Atmosphere.  She  had 
the  Hallways  filled  with  it. 

What  is  more,  she  came  from  an  Old  Family.  Lord 
Cornwallis  once  stopped  at  their  House  to  get  a 
Drink  of  Water  and  George  Washington  came  very 
near  sleeping  under  their  Roof.  So  that  made  the 
Board  about  50  cents  more  on  the  week. 

Like  all  high-class  Boarding  Houses,  it  was  in 
fested  by  some  Lovely  People. 

There  was  the  girl  who  spelled  it  Edythe  and  was 
having  her  Voice  done  over.  She  had  a  Mother  to 
keep  Cases  on  her  and  do  the  Press  Work. 

Also  there  was  the  Grass  Widow  who  remembered 
her  Husband's  Name  but  had  mislaid  the  Address. 

Also  the  Old  Boarder  who  was  always  under  the 
influence  of  Pepsin.  He  would  come  down  to 
Breakfast  wearing  the  Hoof  Marks  of  a  Nightmare 
17  Hands  high  and  holler  about  the  Food  and  tell 
the  Young  Lawyer  how  you  can't  believe  anything 
you  see  in  the  Papers. 

Also  there  was  a  young  man  employed  in  a  Furni 
ture  Store  who  knew  that  he  could  put  W.  S.  Hart 
on  the  Tobog  if  he  ever  got  a  whack  at  the  Pictures. 

So  the  Astute  Reader  will  understand  that  this 
was  a  sure-enough  Boarding  House. 


40  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Ranse  could  have  stood  for  the  Intellectual  Enter 
tainment  if  there  had  been  a  little  more  doing  in  the 
Food  Line. 

Instead  of  stacking  it  up  on  the  Table  and  giving  a 
Signal  to  pitch  in,  the  Refined  Lady  had  it  brought 
on  in  stingy  little  Dabs  by  several  Beautiful  Heir 
esses  who  hated  to  hold  Converse  with  Ordinary 
Mortals. 

About  the  time  that  Ranse,  with  the  Farm  Ap 
petite,  began  to  settle  down  to  Business  he  would 
notice  all  the  other  People  rolling  up  the  Red  Nap 
kins  and  trying  to  get  them  into  the  Rings. 

If  he  kept  on  eating  after  that,  they  would  give 
him  the  frigid  Optic. 

Cereals  were  strongly  featured  at  this  polite 
Prunery. 

j  Ransom,  while  employed  on  the  Farm,  had  often 
mixed  up  Chop  Feed  and  Bran  for  the  Shoats  and 
Yearlings  but  he  never  thought  he  would  come  down 
to  Eating  it  himself. 

Another  Strong  Card  was  a  Soup  that  was  quite 
Pale  and  had  a  couple  of  Vermicelli  swimming 
around  in  it. 

And  every  Tuesday  they  served  Dried  Currants 
with  Clinkers  in  them. 

Before  Ranse  had  been  against  the  Health  Food 
Proposition  many  Moons  he  began  to  hanker  for 
the  yellow-legged  Plymouth  Rocks,  the  golden  But 
ter  and  the  Kind  of  Milk  that  gushes  from  old  Bossy. 

Still,  he  figured  that  as  soon  as  he  got  into  Practice 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLY  GRILL  41 

and  began  to  connect  with  the  Currency  he  could 
shake  the  Oatmeal  Circuit  and  move  up  to  an  A  1 
Hotel. 

Like  all  the  other  Country  Boys  of  the  Story 
Books,  Ransom  made  a  Ten-Strike  in  the  City. 

He  worked  18  hours  per  and  in  Due  Time  he  was 
taken  into  the  Firm  and  stopped  shaving  his  Neck 
and  wore  Pajamas  instead  of  a  balloon-shaped 
Nightie. 

Then  he  moved  into  a  Hotel  that  had  $40,000 
worth  of  Paintings  on  the  First  Floor,  so  that  no 
one  had  a  right  to  kick  even  if  the  Push-Button 
failed  to  work.  All  the  Furniture  was  Louie  Some 
thing. 

You  take  an  ex-Farm-Hand  and  let  him  sit  in  a 
Gold  Chair  (with  a  Satin  Monogram  that  is  too  Nice 
to  lean  against)  and  you  can  see  at  a  Glance  that 
he  is  sure  Enjoying  himself. 

Ranse  now  began  to  go  against  the  a  la  carte. 

The  Menu  was  composed  by  a  temperamental 
Chef.  For  Fear  that  People  might  find  Fault  with 
the  Food,  he  always  smothered  it  over  with  Allama- 
goo. 

Ranse  began  to  find  out  that  Goulash  meant  Boiled 
Dinner  with  Perfumery  added  and  also  there  were 
seven  different  names  for  Hash. 

The  only  thing  that  saved  it  from  being  regular 
Hash  was  the  Piece  of  Lemon  Peel  tucked  on  the  Side. 

Ranse  was  not  very  hoochie  for  the  French  Cook 
ing. 


42  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Sometimes  he  would  find  himself  Chicken-Hungry 
and  he  would  order  what  he  thought  was  Chicken 
and  he  would  get  a  half-section  of  cold-storage  Poulet 
with  a  neat  Ruffle  around  the  Ankle  and  an  Olive 
reposing  on  the  Chest. 

If  he  ordered  Ice  Cream  he  got  something  that 
looked  like  a  Sample  Paper- Weight  from  the  Quar 
ries  at  Bedford,  Indiana. 

And  the  Buckwheat  Cakes!  They  looked  like 
Doilies  and  tasted  like  Blotters. 

And  the  Demi-Tasse  is  an  Awful  Joke  to  spring 
on  the  man  who  wants  a  Cup  of  Coffee ! 

Things  appeared  to  be  coming  very  Soft  for  Ranse 
and  yet  that  which  he  wanted  most  of  all  he  could 
not  get. 

He  recalled  the  Happy  Days  of  Bean  Soup  and 
Punkin  Pie  and  Cottage  Cheese. 

Time  and  again  he  would  see  one  of  these  Old 
Friends  on  a  Score-Card  in  a  Restaurant  and  he 
would  order  it  and  get  some  Fake  Imitation  with 
Smilax  on  the  Outskirts. 

Often  he  would  go  to  Banquets  that  cost  as  much 
as  Ten  a  Throw.  He  would  dally  with  Fish  that  had 
Glue  Dressing  on  top  of  it  and  Golf  Balls  lying  along 
side. 

He  would  tackle  Punch  that  had  Hair  Tonic  as  a 
Base. 

Then  the  Petrified  Quail  and  the  Cheese  that 
should  have  been  served  in  1884. 

After  Ransom  had  insulted  his  Digestive  Appara- 


THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  HOLY  GRILL  43 

tus  for  many  years  with  the  horrible  Concoctions 
of  the  Gents'  Cafe  he  resolved  to  go  back  to  his 
Native  Town  and  visit  some  of  his  Blood  Relations 
so  that  he  could  get  at  least  one  more  crack  at  real 
American  Chow. 

He  wrote  that  he  was  coming  and  his  Kin  became 
greatly  Agitated. 

"Our  celebrated  Cousin,  the  Hon.  Ransom  Pea- 
body,  is  coming  to  visit  us,"  they  said.  "We  must 
make  unusual  Preparations  to  receive  the  big  Battle- 
Ship.  He  is  Rich  and  High-Toned  and  has  been 
living  at  one  of  those  $12-a-Day  Palaces  and  we 
must  cut  a  big  Melon  when  he  comes.  He  is  accus 
tomed  to  City  Grub  and  we  must  not  insult  him  with 
ordinary  Provender." 

So  they  began  framing  up  Dishes  out  of  a  Sub 
scription  Cook-Book  purchased  the  year  before  from 
a  Lady  with  Gold  Glasses. 

The  Hon.  Ransom  arrived  late  one  Evening  and 
all  Night  he  lay  awake  in  the  Spare  Bed-Room 
gloating  over  the  Prospect  of  a  Home  Breakfast. 

''Me  for  the  Sausage  Cakes  with  the  good  old 
Sage  rubbed  into  them,"  said  Ranse.  "I  will  cer 
tainly  show  the  Buckwheats  how  to  take  a  Joke  and 
the  way  I  dip  into  that  Coffee  will  be  a  Caution. 
And  mebbe  I  won't  go  to  those  Eggs  direct  from  the 
Hen!" 

He  arose  early  but  had  to  wait  two  hours.  As  he 
was  from  the  City,  the  Family  had  postponed 
Breakfast  until  9  o'clock. 


44  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

When  he  faced  up  to  the  Table  he  was  Wolfish. 

First  they  gave  him  Grape  Fruit  with  Cologne 
in  the  Hollow  Places. 

Then  the  Finger  Bowl  with  the  cute  Rose  Leaves 
floating  idly  on  the  dimpled  Surface. 

Then  a  dainty  Lamb  Chop  with  an  ornamental 
Fence  around  it  and  a  sweet  little  cup  of  Cocoa  in 
the  China  that  Uncle  Henry  bought  at  the  World's 
Fair. 

Then  French  Toast  and  Eggs  a  la  Gazaza,  with 
Christmas  Trees  stuck  in  them. 

Fine! 

The  Hon.  Ransom  arose  and  spilled  a  few  La 
mentations,  thereby  getting  in  wrong. 

Before  he  went  home  he  did  manage  to  get  a  little 
real  Eating  but  every  one  said  he  was  very  Eccentric 
to  prefer  Fried  Mush  to  Waldorf  Salad. 

Moral:  Hurry  up  and  get  it  before  we  become  en 
tirely  Civilized. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  INSIDE  INFO 

ATER  a  certain  Buck  had  collected  his  In 
heritance  he  got  it  into  the  Acorn  that 
each  Tract  of  Ground  with  a  High  Fence 
around  it,  a  row  of  Stalls,  a  decorative  Club  House, 
a  Grand  Stand  and  a  Paddock  opening  to  an 
Ellipse  of  beaten  Dirt,  was  operated  as  a  Gift  Enter 
prise. 

For  instance,  he  knew  that  if  Jiminetti  ran  third 
to  Minnie  McGee  and  Kidney  Stew  at  Pimlico  on  a 
slow  Track  with  a  bad  Start,  carrying  118  Pounds 
and  a  Stable-Boy  up,  then  it  was  a  mortal  Pipe  that 
he  could  whistle  in  at  Jamaica  on  a  fast  Footing, 
carrying  98  and  piloted  by  Skinks  Googan,  especially 
after  being  clocked  three  mornings  by  the  Rail-Birds 
and  breezing  it  in  1 :42. 

Up  at  Matteawan  all  the  upholstered  Apartments 
are  taken  by  Ex-Plungers  who  can  hand  out  the  same 
line  of  Twitter  for  Hours  at  a  time. 

Every  morning  the  faithful  Stude  would  analyze 
the  Form-Sheet  and  go  back  into  History  until  he 
had  a  Line  on  the  Performances  of  every  Goat  from 
the  cradle  up. 

Before  the  first  Bugle  sounded  he  was  through  the 
Wicket  and  whispering  with  some  Wise  Bird  who  had 

45 


46  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

collected  all  the  Ingredients  of  a  Successful  Career 
except  a  little  Working  Capital. 

No  sooner  were  the  Odds  marked  than  this  young 
Napoleon,  upon  whom  had  fallen  the  Mantle  of 
Pittsburgh  Phil,  would  begin  shooting  Holes  in  every 
Book  that  showed  itself. 

He  surely  knew  how  to  throw  a  Scare  into  the 
Gams. 

After  he  had  backed  his  Judgment  through  a  30- 
day  Meet,  he  ran  across  an  ancient  Sport  who  asked 
him  how  he  seemed  to  check  up  on  the  whole  Cam 
paign. 

"I  think  I'm  about  even,"  replied  the  Sure-Thing 
Specialist. 

"Dear  me!"  commented  the  Ancient  Sport.  "Is 
it  as  bad  as  that?" 

Moral:  In  the  Summer  Months  you  can't  trust  even 
a  Horse. 


THE  FABLE  OF  ALL  TEAT  TRIANGLE  STUFF 

ONCE  there  was  a  heavy-draft   Employee 
named  Joe. 
He  came  direct  from  the  Stubble  to  a 
large  Mercantile  Plant. 

All  of  the  Hall  Dancers  employed  in  the  Depart 
ment  with  Joe  regarded  him  as  Mush-Head  because 
he  stuck  around  Over-Time. 

He  was  a  good  deal  of  a  Swozzie  but  when  the  Lean 
years  came  and  some  one  had  to  be  dropped  through 
the  Hatch-Way,  old  moonfaced  Joe  got  his  Promotion 
just  when  the  wise  Jimmies  got  the  Sidewalk. 

Joe  had  Plans  and  they  were  founded  on  the  most 
orthodox  Dope. 

He  knew  that  every  Man  salted  away  the  Kopecks 
so  that  he  could  provide  a  Home  for  an  adult  Female 
with  respectable  Connections. 

He  understood  that  he  would  be  expected  to  sup 
ply  a  Piano  and  Canary  for  his  Woman  and  lay  by 
enough  Real  Estate  so  that,  after  he  had  been  buried 
by  the  Odd  Fellows,  the  Family  would  continue  to 
have  Leg  of  Lamb  every  Thursday. 

Joe  lived  at  a  Cold-Storage  Dispensary  in  the  ex- 
Home  of  an  ex-Aristocrat  for  ex-Residents  of  the  Tall 
Timothy. 

47 


48  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

His  Alphabet  Soup  and  Bread  Pudding  were 
dropped  in  front  of  him  by  the  Landlady 's  Daugh 
ter,  whose  name  was  Effie  and  who  weighed  close  on 
to  135  pounds. 

Effie  was  just  at  the  Age  when  a  Girl  has  to  be 
Deformed  to  prevent  her  from  being  a  fairly  Good 
Looker. 

To  the  unsophisticated  Joseph,  who  had  just 
dumb  out  of  a  Hay  Mow,  she  looked  like  a  Combina 
tion  of  Geraldine  Farrar  in  the  last  Act  and  Lillian 
Russell  at  the  age  of  17. 

Joe  looked  to  her  like  a  Bushel  of  Oats  until  he 
began  to  pull  down  at  the  Works,  when  she  and  her 
Maw  suddenly  sat  up  and  exchanged  Glances  and  fell 
to  the  Fact  that  they  were  harbouring  a  Live  One. 

Joe  and  Effie  were  married  by  a  cute  little  Minister 
and  they  began  the  long  Hike  with  the  Understand 
ing  that  she  had  stepped  out  from  her  Station  in  Life 
and  conferred  some  kind  of  precious  Boon  on  the 
poor  Goof. 

Inasmuch  as  Joe  had  a  Berth  with  a  large  and 
growing  Concern,  and  Effie  had  been  accustomed 
to  do  up  the  Dishes  every  Evening,  he  might  have 
done  her  a  lot  of  Good  by  tipping  it  off  to  her  that 
she  was  getting  no  worse  than  an  Even  Break. 

But  Joe  never  held  out  for  that  Fifty-Fifty  Clause. 
He  was  willing  to  let  it  go  Ninety-Ten. 

He  said  repeatedly  that  he  was  the  luckiest  Lad  in 
all  the  World  and  Effie  believed  him  and  began  to 
order  Garments  with  wide,  ornamental  Edges. 


49 


50  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Joe  was  strong  for  that  old  line  of  Honey- 
Drip  about  the  Sturdy  Oak  and  the  Clinging 
Vine. 

He  believed  that  every  Man  was  put  on  Earth  to 
be  a  Getter  for  the  Mother  of  his  Children,  whether 
they  had  any  or  not. 

Effie  used  him  as  a  sort  of  Derrick  for  lifting  Ob 
stacles  out  of  her  Pathway. 

He  was  what  any  Public  Utilities  Company  would 
call  the  Trouble  Man. 

In  Military  Parlance,  he  was  expected  to  Fire  and 
Fall  Back. 

This  Arrangement  just  suited  him.  He  con 
sidered  it  a  privilege  to  be  the  Typical  American 
Husband. 

Joe  did  not  know  that  in  Germany  the  Frau  carries 
the  Bundles  and  walks  about  ten  feet  behind  her 
beautiful  scar-faced  Otto. 

He  would  have  pitied  the  Slave  of  the  Orient  who 
keeps  the  Flies  away  from  her  Lord  and  Master 
while  he  is  sneaking  a  Siesta. 

He  began  to  take  Orders  before  they  were  twenty 
feet  from  the  Altar  and  when  they  moved  into  the 
Flat  she  had  him  so  Buffaloed  he  was  afraid  to  step 
on  a  Rug  without  getting  a  Permit. 

It  was  Hard  Lines  for  Effie,  sitting  in  the  little  old 
Apartment  for  Hours  at  a  Stretch  wearing  princi 
pally  a  Kimono  and  a  lot  of  Talcum  Powder  and 
reading  Books  that  were  touted  to  her  by  the  Lady 
across  the  Hallway. 


ALL  THAT  TRIANGLE  STUFF          51 

Effie  was  stealthily  approaching  the  Realm  of 
Literature  by  way  of  the  Best  Sellers. 

Up  to  the  time  she  left  the  Beanery  she  was  never 
sure  of  Anything  unless  she  saw  it  in  the  Evening 
Paper,  but  before  she  had  been  in  the  Apartment  a 
year  she  began  to  have  Culture  Pains. 

She  had  read  a  Million  Pages  of  Slushmagush 
about  strikingly  handsome  Devils  with  long  Eye- 
Lashes  and  Tremolo  Voices.  They  were  a  good  deal 
different  from  that  which  she  had  Married,  conse 
quently  she  was  much  given  to  lowering  the  Volume 
and  emitting  a  deep  Sigh. 

The  Matinees  and  Recitals  and  the  Daylight 
Round-Ups  of  the  Wide-Eyed  Women  were  simply 
Pie  for  Effie. 

She  had  Bushels  of  Time,  because  Joe  had  em 
ployed  a  combination  Door-Opener  and  Dish-Breaker 
and  begged  her  to  let  the  Girl  do  the  Hard  Work. 

Effie's  most  important  Occupation  was  to  employ 
the  Time  provided  by  Joe  in  learning  to  be  so  In 
tellectual  and  Artistic  that  her  Husband  looked  like 
a  Mackerel  alongside  of  her. 

Fortunately,  Joe's  Income  grew  with  her  ex 
panding  Ambitions,  so  that  after  she  had  been  a 
Bird  in  the  Gilded  Cage  for  Five  years,  she  had  two 
Servants  in  addition  to  the  Nurse  for  Gwendolyn, 
and  was  pulling  Dinner  Parties  and  getting  next  to  a 
lot  of  Interesting  People  who  had  Done  Things. 

It  never  occurred  to  her  that  Joe  was  among  those 
who  had  shown  Class. 


52  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

He  had  come  in  from  the  Provinces,  unaccom 
panied  by  any  Pull,  and  had  simply  bucked  his  way 
to  Advancement. 

If  a  Fellow  stays  in  the  Country  long  enough  be 
fore  coming  to  the  City,  he  gets  to  be  such  a  Gaffer 
that  his  Early  Habits  cling  to  him  and  he  doesn't 
know  any  better  than  to  work  every  Day  from  Sun 
up  to  Sun-down. 

It  was  so  with  Joe.  He  simply  ate  that  Work 
thing. 

Up  to  the  time  he  closed  his  Desk  every  Day  he 
was  a  Loud  Noise  but  when  he  stepped  out  of  the 
Lift  in  the  Rosalina  Apartment  Building  he  had  died 
away  to  a  Whisper. 

He  was  merely  the  Provider  for  what  was  getting 
to  be  an  awful  nifty  Establishment. 

He  was  the  Auto  Truck  that  brought  up  the  Sup 
plies  to  the  Commander-in-Chief . 

He  was  an  imperfect  Specimen  of  the  Inferior  Sex 
that  she  had  heard  so  much  about  at  the  Lectures. 

When  he  put  on  his  Open  Front  he  looked  like  an 
Extra  Waiter  at  a  Banquet  costing  a  Dollar  a  Plate. 

Plank  him  down  at  a  flower-laden  Table  with  a 
bevy  of  those  who  exchange  their  Conversation  for 
Something  to  Eat  and  he  was  simply  Present  but 
not  Voting. 

He  edged  toward  the  Hay  at  9  P.M.  unless  in 
tercepted. 

No  wonder  that  the  Lady  who  now  signed  herself 
Evaleen  Frisbie  Pilkins  regarded  him  as  a  Mutt  and 


ALL  THAT  TRIANGLE  STUFF          53 

often  blamed  him  for  hanging  the  Pilkins  on  to  her 
and  handicapping  a  Career. 

She  could  not  help  but  compare  him  with  Mr. 
Williston  Fosbrook,  with  whom  she  was  Tea- 
Carousing  several  times  a  week. 

Mr.  Fosbrook  had  inherited  just  enough  Income 
to  keep  him  in  Shredded  Wheat  and  White  Neckties, 
so  he  was  around  declaiming  against  Materialism. 

He  was  a  Great  Hand  for  reading  Papers  to  the 
emancipated  SufTs  and  sometimes  they  would  almost 
get  what  he  was  Handing  Out. 

Mr.  Williston  Fosbrook  was  everything  that  Joe 
was  not,  which  is  a  Compliment  or  vice  versa,  much 
depending  on  where  you  happen  to  be  Standing  at 
the  Time. 

He  was  a  Beetle  on  the  kind  of  Music  that  put 
Joe  to  Sleep. 

His  Execution  was  a  bit  wabbly  but  he  could  sit 
up  to  the  Piano  and  Vamp  and  Four-Flush  and  Stall 
around  the  Outskirts  of  Peer  Gynt  until  all  of  the 
Claires  and  Elaines  wanted  to  go  up  and  lean  on  his 
Shoulder  and  Sob. 

Mr.  Fosbrook  was  an  Almost. 

Between  Macaroons  he  could  dismiss,  by  a  Wave 
of  the  Hand,  nine-tenths  of  the  Modern  Painters 
and  all  of  the  Popular  Novelists. 

He  was  a  Cream  Puff  that  should  have  been 
served  Day  before  Yesterday. 

He  was  a  Tulip  that  has  remained  in  the  Florist's 
window  over  Sunday. 


O    to 
-K>      ^ 

• 


ALL  THAT  TRIANGLE  STUFF  55 

Joe  got  his  Number  the  first  time  he  caught  him 
hanging  around  and  classed  him  as  an  Unfortunate 
Incident,  the  same  as  a  Smoky  Flue  or  a  busted 
Water  Pipe. 

Joe  had  heard  of  Home- Wreckers  but  he  was  will 
ing  to  take  a  Chance  on  a  Male  Nanny  who  carried 
the  Handkerchief  under  the  Cuff. 

WThiie  Old  Reliable  was  down  at  the  Office  trying 
to  steal  enough  Dough  to  keep  Dearie  in  Society, 
the  Trouble-Maker  was  up  at  the  Apartment, 
smoking  Joe's  30-cent  Brevas  and  telling  Mrs.  Pil- 
kins  that  she  was  In  Wrong. 

That  Sympathy  Gag  will  get  to  any  one,  especially 
on  the  Off  Day  when  the  most  loyal  Wife  wonders 
if  she  wouldn't  have  done  better  by  waiting  a  few 
Weeks  and  taking  another  Look  around. 

Mr.  Fosbrook  had  Effie  convinced  that  she  was  a 
composite  of  Madame  de  Stael,  Joan  of  Arc,  and 
Carrie  Chapman  Catt,  condemned  to  a  sodden 
Existence  with  One  who  preferred  Cohan  to  Ibsen. 

One  day  when  the  True  Friend  had  Condoled  until 
she  was  sniffling  on  the  Verge  of  Hysteria,  Joe  walked 
in  on  them  and  wanted  to  Know  what  was  the 
whole  Idea. 

Mr.  Fosbrook  established  a  couple  of  New 
Records  in  getting  the  Hat  and  finding  the  Street 
Exit. 

Effie  erupted  and  told  All. 

She  said  she  had  Aspirations  moving  around  inside 
of  her  and  her  super-sensitive  Nature  rebelled  at 


56  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

the  Thought  of  continuing  to  live  in  a  mere  Doll's 
House. 

She  suggested  that  in  the  great  Shake-Up  of 
Destiny,  possibly  it  never  had  been  meant  that  she 
and  Joe  were  to  be  Soul-Mates. 

She  spoke  of  Companionship  based  upon  kindred 
Emotional  Responses. 

Joe  listened  hard  but  he  fumbled  most  of  her 
Punts. 

When  she  slipped  him  the  moldy  one  about  every 
Woman  having  a  Right  to  live  her  Life  in  her  own 
Way,  he  missed  a  Swell  Opening. 

He  might  have  hinted  that  up  to  the  Time  he 
lassooed  her  in  the  Food  Bazaar  she  was  getting  her 
Wish,  but  he  didn't  care  to  Start  Anything. 

Joe  was  up  against  the  Triangle. 

Usually  it  consists  of  two  Women  and  a  Man  or 
two  Men  and  a  Woman;  but  this  time  the  Lay-Out 
was  a  Producer,  an  Onion  and  a  plump  Lady  who 
had  gone  in  too  heavily  for  Marshmallows  and  New 
Thought. 

Joe  had  not  studied  the  Spicy  Drama  and  did  not 
know  how  to  proceed  according  to  well-known 
Formulas. 

So  he  did  not  upbraid  the  Woman  in  the  Case  until 
she  writhed  among  the  Rugs. 

Neither  did  he  lure  the  Destroyer  to  a  Private 
Apartment  and  cut  him  into  Cubes,  which  the  same 
is  being  done  in  Latin  Countries. 

Joe  was  slow  but  Cooney.     He  had  not  operated 


ALL  THAT  TRIANGLE  STUFF          57 

in  the  hard-faced  world  of  Barter  and  Gain  all 
these  years  without  learning  to  be  somewhat  of  a 
Weasel. 

He  told  his  Partner  that  if  she  wanted  to  call  all 
Bets  off  and  declare  a  new  Book,  he  would  be  Game 
and  never  Cheep. 

He  still  loved  her  and  wanted  to  keep  on  paying 
her  Bills  but  if  she  insisted  on  a  Decree,  she  was  the 
Doctor. 

Only,  he  said,  it  would  be  advisable  for  the  Genius 
to  get  together  the  Price  of  an  Oil  Stove  and  a  couple 
of  Chairs  before  taking  over  somebody  else's  Wife. 

Then  he  hunted  up  Mr.  Fosbrook  and  told  him  to 
Stop  trembling  and  there  wouldn't  be  any  Scandal. 

The  great  Wrong  which  he  (Joe)  had  committed, 
when  he  dragged  Effie  out  of  the  Pantry,  would  be 
righted  just  as  soon  as  the  Future  Husband  had  a 
Bank  Roll  that  could  stand  up  when  Wine  began 
reading  the  Ads  in  the  Paper. 

Joe  had  no  real  Intention  of  cutting  loose. 

Effie  might  throw  an  occasional  Tantrum  and  even 
get  chunky  around  the  Waist-Line  and  show  a  Chin, 
but  she  was  his  for  Keeps. 

Joe  was  a  One- Woman  Specialist.  There  are  a 
few  of  them  left. 

The  poor  left-handed  Loon  had  tried  to  compete 
with  Mr.  Williston  Fosbrook  in  the  Fields  of  Litera 
ture,  Music,  Art  and  low-grade  Parlour  Bunk  and  he 
had  Died  standing  up. 

His  only  chance  was  to  enter  Mr.  Fosbrook  in 


58  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

some  Event  which  would  reveal  the  Lady's  Pet  as  a 
False  Alarm. 

So  he  induced  Mr.  Fosbrook  to  Invest  and  Promote. 

He  put  the  Neophyte  into  a  couple  of  Good  Things 
and  had  him  Money -Mad  in  less  than  no  time.  It 
never  failed  yet. 

After  Mr.  Fosbrook  had  been  made  Director  of  a 
Company,  because  of  his  Social  Prominence,  Joe 
gave  him  a  quiet  Steer. 

"If  you  wear  the  Morning  Coat  and  Orchid,  and 
that  narrow  white  Hickey  inside  the  Vest,  and  the 
Tortoise-Shell  Specs  with  Ribbon  attached,  and  the 
Spats,  and  the  Hair  draping  the  Collar,  all  the  other 
Directors  will  look  at  you  askance  and  not  let  you 
in  on  the  Dividends,"  said  Joe.  "If  you  are  crafty 
you  will  lay  off  the  Low  Comedy  Effects  for  a  while 
and  be  a  regular  Human  Being." 

So  Mr.  Fosbrook  put  on  Citizen's  Clothes  and 
had  his  hair  cut,  after  which  he  looked  like  a  Sales 
man  in  the  Shoe  Department.  When  the  notorious 
High  Brow  got  into  a  Norfolk  Jacket  and  a  spotted 
Four-in-hand  and  the  ordinary  $10  Lid  that  can  be 
purchased  for  $5  anywhere  except  on  the  Avenue, 
he  lost  all  Charm,  all  Distinction — all  of  that  elusive 
and  intangible  Somethingness  which  differentiates 
the  Early  Rose  from  the  Early  Rose  Potato.  In 
other  words  an  Author  is  an  Author  until  he  starts 
out  to  be  a  Captain  of  Industry. 

He  went  to  see  Effie  and  tell  her  that  he  had  braved 
Public  Opinion  and  gone  into  Trade. 


ALL  THAT  TRIANGLE  STUFF          59 

Effie  took  one  look  at  him  and  told  him  he  was 
Wrong.  He  had  not  gone  into  Trade.  He  had 
gone  into  the  Discard. 

Moral:  Many  an  Aviator  would  look  foolish  Saw 
ing  Wood. 


THE  FABLH  OF  THE  BRAND  THAT  WAS  PLUCKED 
AND  GOT  COLD 

ONCE  there  was  an  Almost-Genius  named 
Swivvleton  J.  Flegbie. 
He  would  have  been  World's  Champion 
of  the  Intellectual  Heavy-Weights  if  he  had  worn 
Ear-Muffs. 

At  least,  that  is  what  everyone  said. 

Any  time  Swiv  got  an  Invite,  he  was  at  the  Listen 
ing  Post,  accompanied  by  one  Thirst. 

If  a  Benefactor  in  the  adjoining  Room  said  in  a 
Stage  Whisper :  "  Will  you  pour  a  slight  Libation  on 
the  Altar  of  Friendship?"  Mr.  Flegbie,  40  Feet 
away  and  with  a  Partition  between,  always  spoke  up 
and  said :  "  Excuse  me  if  I  don't  refuse." 

When  a  Bell  tapped,  he  was  there  ahead  of  the 
Waiter. 

By  working  the  soft  Routes  and  telling  a  Story 
when  it  came  his  turn  to  Purchase,  he  was  under 
Full  Sail  by  10  o'clock  every  Morning,  with  all  Flags 
set  and  the  Band  playing. 

He  was  a  brilliant  Orator,  even  when  Corned. 

His  Friends  knew  that  if  he  could  side-step  the 
Red  Stuff  he  would  prove  to  be  a  peerless  Combina 
tion  of  Daniel  Webster,  Demosthenes  and  William 
Jennings  Chautauqua. 

60 


//  a  Benefactor  in  the  adjoining  Room  said  in  a  Stage 
Whisper,  "  Will  you  pour  a  slight  Libation  on  the  Altar  of 
Friendship  ?"  Mr.  Flegbie,  40  feet  away  and  with  a  Par 
tition  between,  always  spoke  up  and  said:  "Excuse  me  if  I 
don't  refuse" 


61 


62  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

He  put  across  many  a  cute  Business  Deal  even 
when  he  was  primed  to  the  Key-Hole. 

"If  we  could  just  get  him  on  the  Lithia,"  said  all 
of  his  Acquaintances,  "he  would  soon  throw  a  cloud 
of  Dust  over  Mr.  Stettinius  of  the  House  of  Morgan." 

Even  the  Ladies  conceded  that,  although  he  might 
be  lit  up  like  an  Elks'  Carnival,  he  had  a  certain 
Charm  of  Manner  and  a  rare  touch  of  the  Savoir 
Faire,  with  the  accent  on  the  "Salve." 

At  last  the  Town  in  which  he  lived  went  dryer 
than  Death  Valley. 

The  Buyers  ceased  to  Buy  and  the  Ice  Picks  were 
hammered  into  Knitting  Needles. 

The  many  Admirers  of  Old  Fleg  predicted  that  at 
last  he  would  emerge  from  the  Alcoholic  Mists  and 
stand  forth,  radiant  in  the  Sunlight  of  Sobriety. 

He  stood  forth,  but  he  didn't  seem  to  Radiate. 

He  could  not  even  Ignite. 

He  was  a  Twin-Six,  but  he  was  missing  on  11 
Cylinders. 

After  fooling  them  for  Years,  it  was  now  revealed 
that  his  rightful  Occupation  was  to  chisel  Epitaphs 
on  Head-Stones. 

So  the  Legislature  was  petitioned  to  make  an  Excep 
tion  in  his  Case  and  let  him  tune  up  every  Afternoon. 

His  Neighbours  explained  that  they  wanted  to 
become  Acquainted  with  him  again. 

Moral:  One  man's  Poison  Ivy  is  another  Fellow's 
Spinach. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  Civic  IMPROVER  AND  THE 
CUSTOMARY  REWARD 

MR.  FOSTER  plugged  for  the  Common  Weal. 
He  was  strong  for  that  Brotherhood  of 
Man  Stuff. 

He  was  Considerable  Uplifter. 

The  Day  was  counted  lost  whose  low-descending 
Sun  saw  nothing  put  over  for  the  Betterment  of  the 
race. 

Inasmuch  as  Mr.  Foster  lived  in  a  mildewed  Set 
tlement  that  needed  a  good  many  Things,  including 
some  first-class  Funerals,  his  Assignment  was  no 
Farina. 

For  every  Pansy  in  this  Conservative  Town  there 
were  14  Rutabagas. 

You  Know — the  Cracker  and  Milk  Buddies  who 
shave  their  own  Necks. 

Good  Moral  Men  who  needed  the  Vacuum  Cleaner. 

Mr.  Foster's  Ambition  was  to  shoot  a  little  Tab 
asco  into  all  the  Amoses  and  Ezras  and  get  them  to  do 
something  for  their  Home  Town. 

He  had  a  gaudy  Chance. 

When  a  Piece  of  Money  ran  up  against  one  of  these 
Wads,  it  said  Good-by  to  the  Vain  World  for  quite  a 
Spell. 

63 


64  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Mr.  Foster  was  always  on  his  Toes,  shouting, 
"Come  on,  Fellows!" 

But  the  Slackers  and  Drifters  and  Side-Steppers, 
and  those  who  were  Lame  above  the  Neck-Band,  and 
the  dark-minded  Doubters,  and  the  Swabs  who  were 
willing  to  let  Well  Enough  Alone  did  not  rally  to  the 
Call  with  any  degree  of  Ginger. 

They  had  to  be  Pushed. 

Mr.  Foster  ever  and  anon  brought  out  a  new 
assortment  of  Propaganda  and  started  some  kind  of 
a  Campaign. 

One  of  the  best  Stunts  he  supervised  was  for 
the  Manicuring  and  Talcum  Powdering  of  the 
Town. 

He  kept  at  the  City  Fathers  until  they  gave  him 
an  Ordinance  requiring  every  Householder  to  tidy 
up  the  Alley  and  chop  down  the  Weeds  and  plant 
Forget-Me-Nots  around  the  Garbage  Can. 

In  a  short  time  some  of  the  leading  Political 
Economists  and  Believers  in  Infant  Damnation 
were  being  chivied  by  the  Police. 

Probably  70  per  cent,  of  the  Population  thought 
that  Clean-Up  Week  was  a  Grand  Idea  but  the 
other  30  put  the  Boob's  Curse  on  the  Instigator  and 
bawled  him  out  as  a  Blamed  Nuisance. 

It  was  the  same  when  he  began  to  Vox  Populi 
the  Newspapers  and  demand  a  new  Palais  de  Justice. 

Long,  mournful  Howls  began  to  float  in  from  the 
Rural  Districts  when  the  Bond  Issue  was  proposed. 

It  required  years  of  Nagging,  but  now  the  County 


THE  CIVIC  IMPROVER  65 

has  an  imposing  Edifice  of  Stone  with  a  Precinct 
Captain  looking  out  of  every  Window. 

The  Building  is  surmounted  by  a  gilded  Weather 
Vane  and  a  Debt  about  the  size  of  the  Belgian 
Indemnity. 

It  was  a  proud  day  for  Mr.  Foster  and  all  of  the 
Paupers  when  the  Corner-Stone  was  laid. 

Every  one  seemed  to  be  elated  except  the  Tax- 
Payers. 

You  should  have  seen  the  streets  of  Nubbinville 
before  Mr.  Foster  circulated  his  Petitions. 

The  Residence  District  looked  ever  so  flossy  after 
Mr.  Foster  got  through  with  it  but  those  who  had  to 
unbelt  for  the  Special  Assessments  left  a  trail  of 
Blood  out  of  the  Treasurer's  Office. 

Mr.  Foster  was  one  of  those  nervous  Fuss-Budgets. 

He  seemed  to  think  he  was  wasting  Time  unless 
he  could  throw  a  Spasm. 

For  him  Life  was  just  one  Quiver  after  another. 

He  would  stand  at  the  Corner  of  4th  and  Main, 
day  after  day,  with  his  Hands  on  his  Hips,  and  look 
in  four  Directions  and  try  to  think  of  some  new  way 
of  jacking  up  old  Sleepy  Hollow. 

It  was  Our  Hera  who  delivered  the  grand  Coup  de 
Swat  to  the  Gin  Palaces. 

He  put  the  Town  so  Dry  that  even  a  Stranger  had 
some  trouble  in  finding  a  Cold  One  lying  on  a  piece 
of  Ice. 

Mr.  Foster  was  no  Bigot.  He  could  do  a  little 
mopping  up  on  the  Quiet  but  he  considered  the 


The  Residence  District  looked  ever  so  flossy  after  Mr. 
Foster  got  through  with  it,  but  those  who  had  to  unbelt  for 
the  Special  Assessments  left  a  trail  of  Blood  out  of  the 
Treasurer's  office 


66 


THE  CIVIC  IMPROVER  67 

Saloon  an  Evil  Influence  for  everyone  except  Him 
self. 

The  Local  Option  Hurrah  no  sooner  got  under  way 
than  Brother  Foster  was  right  at  the  Head  of  the 
Push  chewing  a  Clove  and  beating  a  Drum. 

Where  once  the  Beer  Garden  smiled,  the  Aerdome 
gave  90  minutes  of  Movie  Mush  for  the  small  sum 
of  One  Dime. 

Traveling  Men  hated  to  Sunday  in  the  Town  and 
the  Working  Classes  were  very  sober  and  unhappy. 

When  the  buzzing  Benefactor  flopped  Demon 
Rum  to  the  sward,  with  both  shoulders  down  and 
then  sat  on  him,  Sister  Crusinberry,  Sister  Hackle- 
forth  and  Sister  Frothingham  all  gave  him  the  Chau- 
tauqua  Salute  and  said  that  wasn't  he  a  Nice  Man. 

He  was  Aces  and  Eights  with  the  female  Vigilantes 
until  he  braved  Public  Opinion  and  gave  a  Position 
in  his  Office  to  a  comely  Grass  Widow  whose  Go- 
ings-On  had  caused  more  or  less  Whispering. 

Mr.  Foster  took  the  Advanced  Stand  that  a  Single 
Married  Woman  had  to  keep  on  paying  her  Board, 
even  if  she  had  played  Tag  with  one  or  two  of  the 
minor  Commandments. 

But  the  leafy  Avenues  of  Nubbinville  sheltered 
many  Ladies  who  never  had  Sinned  or  been  Urged. 

Their  idea  of  keeping  the  Town  free  from  Scandal 
was  to  condemn  all  Joy-Riders  to  Boiling  Oil. 

An  Actor  getting  $150  a  Week  and  made  up  around 
the  Eyes  can  help  an  Unfortunate  who  has  stubbed 
her  Toe  and  get  away  with  it. 


68  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

A  good  many  things  that  look  Reasonable  on  the 
Stage  cannot  be  put  across  in  a  Real  Estate  Office. 

Mr.  Foster  was  Humane  and  hated  to  see  a  Blonde 
starve  to  Death. 

She  was  more  of  a  Blonde  than  a  Typist  but  she 
would  spell  a  Word  right  every  once  in  a  While  and 
she  was  grateful. 

Mr.  Foster  carried  an  Approving  Conscience  but 
he  certainly  crabbed  his  Rating  with  Sister  Crusin- 
berry  and  Sister  Hackleforth  and  Sister  Frothing- 
ham. 

They  had  nothing  on  him  but  in  any  Town  where 
the  Volunteer  Detectives  are  well  organized,  a  lack 
of  Evidence  never  yet  headed  off  Free  Discussion. 

They  could  not  get  his  Number,  so  instead  of  giv 
ing  him  a  Clean  Bill  they  decided  that  he  was  a  Fox. 

Just  while  all  the  pious  Maudes  and  Myrtles  were 
taking  a  Hack  at  him,  he  broke  out  in  a  New  Place 
and  got  on  the  trail  of  the  Gamblers. 

Up  certain  dim  Stairways  were  so-called  Clubs. 

Each  of  these  Social  Organizations  consisted 
principally  of  an  Ice-Box  and  a  Kitty. 

Many  Citizens  who  had  been  entirely  surrounded 
by  purifying  Influences  for  years  seemed  to  prefer 
these  Joints  to  Prayer  Meetings  and  Lectures. 

They  sat  in  several  Nights  a  week. 

The  Marks  were  all  trying  to  catch  Even  and  the 
Sharks  were  all  trying  to  get  More. 

Mr.  Foster  learned  that  several  of  his  Neighbours, 
who  played  Hope  against  Experience,  were  feeding 


THE  CIVIC  IMPROVER  69 

in  the  Coin  that  their  poor  Wives  needed  for  High 
Shoes  and  Mesh  Bags. 

Once  more  he  took  down  the  Big  Stick  and  went 
after  Satan.  Some  of  our  Fellow-Beings  who  have 
really  useful  Moments  and  many  Attributes  to  dif 
ferentiate  them  from  the  Brute  Creation,  still  have 
the  Idea  firmly  set  in  their  Cokes  that  running  a 
Whizzer  or  whooping  before  the  Draw  is  a  legitimate 
Pastime  and  Nobody's  Business,  except  the  Ike  that 
gets  hooked. 

When  Mr.  Foster  ordered  them  to  close  up  their 
little  Side  Rooms  and  take  down  the  Curtains  and 
spend  their  Evenings  with  the  Children,  they  told 
him  to  loosen  his  Surcingle  and  go  and  take  a  long 
breezy  Gallop  for  himself. 

Never  yet  had  St.  George  laid  down  to  a  Dragon. 

The  fact  that  Prominent  Merchants  were  playing 
them  close  every  Night,  with  most  of  their  Clothes 
off  and  their  Galluses  down,  did  not  flutter  the  scales 
of  Justice  or  cut  any  Lemons  with  Mr.  Foster. 

When  a  real  Progressive  gets  into  a  delirium  of 
House  Cleaning,  he  would  send  his  own  Brother-in- 
law  to  the  Chair. 

The  Nonpareil  Pleasure  Club,  where  the  Deuces 
run  wild  and  the  extra  Joker  helps  to  complicate 
Guess  Work,  was  right  in  the  Shank  of  a  delightful 
Evening  when  the  Big  Bomb  fell  in  the  Trench. 

The  District  Manager  of  a  Life  Insurance  Com 
pany  was  about  to  tilt  Mr.  Purvis,  the  Hardware 
Man  (the  one  who  organized  the  Boy  Scouts),  when 


70  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

in  stepped  the  professional  Nemesis  and  a  regiment 
of  Cops. 

The  Members  were  peeved  beyond  Expression. 

A  good  many  of  them  seemed  to  think  that  if  you 
own  Stock  in  a  National  Bank  you  can't  be  Pinched. 

When  you  take  a  Man  of  Family,  who  has  Credit 
at  all  the  Shops  and  some  Drag  in  Society,  and  give 
him  a  step-along  into  the  Blue  Wagon,  you  are 
simply  advertising  for  Trouble. 

What  cared  Fearless  Foster? 

Every  time  he  heard  the  Bugle  sound  and  saw  a 
dangerous  Task  ahead,  he  began  to  heave  under  the 
Vest  and  his  Temperature  went  to  109. 

Little  Knots  of  Men  stood  about  and  discussed  the 
Outrage. 

If  a  Trusty  Leader  had  offered  himself  it  would 
have  been  a  Case  of  Away  to  the  Blasted  Oak  and  a 
limp  Form  dangling  in  the  Moonlight. 

The  Moral  Element  stood  by  the  Busy  little  Re 
former,  except  those  whose  Relatives  were  pulled. 

If  you  will  visit  the  nifty  Burg  of  Nubbinville,  you 
will  find  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  established  in  a  scrump 
tious  Home  and  a  modern  Hospital  in  one  of  the  quiet 
Suburbs. 

Mr.  Foster  always  maintained  that  a  Resident 
should  not  be  compelled  to  go  away  from  home  to  get 
Salvation  or  have  his  Appendix  removed,  so  he 
maced  the  Misers  and  made  them  Dig. 

Did  the  Promoter  enhance  his  personal  Popularity 
by  shaking  down  the  Skinflints? 


THE  CIVIC  IMPROVER  71 

Oh,  possibly  not!  When  he  started  up  Street 
with  a  Subscription  Blank,  he  was  just  as  popular 
as  Spinal  Meningitis. 

It  seems  inevitable  that  when  a  spotless  Bene 
factor  starts  out  to  disinfect  the  Universe,  he  must 
butt  into  Politics  sooner  or  later. 

Mr.  Foster  was  given  to  panting  deeply  because 
the  Plain  People  were  being  thimble-rigged  and 
hornswaggled  and  shortchanged  by  the  beetle- 
browed  Bosses  and  their  hungry  Hirelings. 

If  Mr.  Foster  had  stood  on  any  Public  Thorough 
fare  and  checked  off  the  Plain  People  as  they  moped 
by,  he  would  have  noted  that  they  were  not  very 
deep  behind  the  Ears  or  gleamy  in  the  Eyes. 

The  Plain  People  are  worth  dying  for  until  you 
bunch  them  and  give  them  the  cold  Once-Over,  and 
then  they  impress  the  impartial  Observer  as  being 
slightly  Bovine,  with  a  large  Percentage  of  Vegetable 
Tissue. 

The  Cleanser  and  Sterilizer  did  not  need  the  Salary 
and  he  was  all  booked  up  with  his  own  Plans,  but 
when  he  put  his  Ear  to  the  Ground  and  heard  the 
imaginary  Cry  for  Help  from  thousands  of  lowly 
Plebes  who  were  getting  the  short  end  of  every 
Divvy,  he  said  it  was  a  time  for  Sacrificial  Devotion, 
so  he  came  out  as  a  Candidate  for  the  Legislature. 

His  Card  appeared  in  the  Evening  Paper,  and  early 
next  Morning  earnest  Men  might  have  been  seen 
bending  over  Grindstones  and  sharpening  up  their 
Snickersnees. 


72  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Mr.  Foster  thought  he  was  Popular  because  he 
had  been  Militant,  Constructive,  and  Altruistic. 

The  poor  Simp  had  not  made  a  Close  Study  of  the 
Average  Citizen  who  wears  a  6j  Hat  and  likes  to 
Whittle,  or  he  would  have  known  that  the  popular 
Johnny  is  one  who  never  stirs  up  the  Animals. 

Among  the  Managers  of  the  Party  Machine  were 
many  Ex-Barkeeps,  former  Poker  Players,  perjuring 
Tax  Dodgers,  and  amateur  High  Binders  who  had 
been  waiting  for  years  to  take  a  Punch  at  the  lily- 
white  Samaritan. 

They  passed  the  word  out  to  the  Rough  Necks 
and  when  the  Convention  Assembled,  it  promptly 
nominated  for  the  Legislature  a  two-fisted  Hick  who 
raised  Bull  Dogs  for  a  Living. 

Mr.  Foster  saw  that  the  Will  of  the  People  had 
been  thwarted  by  secret  Maneuvers  of  the  corrupt 
Leaders. 

He  decided  it  was  about  time  for  some  one  to  put 
a  Crimp  in  the  professional  Yeggmen,  so  he  came 
out,  as  bold  as  you  please,  and  announced  himself 
as  an  Independent  Candidate. 

His  Dope  was  that  the  Sovereign  Voters  would 
scan  his  Record  and  find  that  he  had  been  in  the  fore 
front  of  every  Movement  for  the  Common  Good 
and  then  rush  to  his  support  En  Masse. 

It  is  quite  true  that  the  Citizens  got  a  line  on  his 
Past  Performances,  and  this  is  what  the  Investiga 
tion  netted  him: 

Sixty  per  cent,  of  the  Residents  remembered  with 


THE  CIVIC  IMPROVER  73 

gratitude  his  efforts  to  clean  up  the  overgrown  Vil 
lage.  The  other  forty  still  nursed  a  Grudge. 

Perhaps  30  per  cent,  of  the  Male  Population  con 
tinued  to  dream  of  the  Happy  Days — Right  Foot  on 
the  Rail,  Cheese  Sandwich  in  left  Mitt,  a  Scuttle  in 
the  Right. 

At  last  they  were  to  have  a  chance  to  throw  the 
Boots  into  the  Gink  who  had  driven  them  out  into 
the  Desert  to  die  of  Thirst. 

Did  the  Poker  Players  and  their  Friends  circulate 
quietly  and  do  any  Rapping?  Possibly  they  in 
fluenced  only  about  10  per  cent,  of  the  Electors,  but 
they  certainly  lined  up  the  Sporting  Element. 

The  Lady  Pinkertons  had  not  forgotten  about  the 
Hussy  who  worked  in  the  Office. 

A  good  many  of  them  told  their  Husbands  not 
to  shame  the  Sons  and  Daughters  by  voting  for  a 
Satyr. 

Inasmuch  as  these  same  Husbands  were  already 
sore  at  Mr.  Foster  on  three  or  four  outside  Counts, 
and  a  little  Jealous  on  account  of  the  Blonde,  the 
Women  had  no  trouble  in  organizing  about  15  per 
cent,  of  the  Registered  Voters  on  the  Moral  Issue 
alone. 

Estimating  that  Mr.  Foster  had  offended  30  per 
cent,  of  the  Citizens  by  his  demand  for  Street  Im 
provements,  60  per  cent,  by  his  Agitation  for  a  new 
Court  House,  15  or  20  per  cent,  by  his  Sandbagging 
for  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  and  Hospital,  and  possibly  25 
per  cent,  more  by  various  Activities  scattered  over  a 


74  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

period  of  Years,  one  has  only  to  step  to  the  Adding 
Machine  and  do  a  little  Finger  Work  to  discover  that 
Mr.  Foster's  name  was  Dennis  X.  Mud  with  about 
240  per  cent,  of  the  highminded  Peers  to  whom  he 
had  entrusted  his  Cause. 

When  the  Returns  were  all  in,  the  man  who 
had  converted  Nubbinville  from  a  Mud  Puddle 
to  a  Beauty  Spot  looked  at  the  Figures  and 
decided  that  he  had  been  running  on  the  Prohibition 
Ticket. 

Did  he  become  embittered  and  rave  about  being 
Knifed  by  those  whom  he  had  pulled  out  of  the  Ditch? 

Not-a-tall. 

He  simply  said,  "Oh,  Scissors!"  and  took  a  Vaca 
tion. 

Turning  the  Business  over  to  a  pet  Nephew,  he 
moved  out  to  a  Bungalow  near  the  Country  Club 
which  he  had  forced  on  the  reluctant  Community. 

After  saving  Humanity  for  Years,  he  took  off  his 
Soldier  Clothes  and  enlisted  for  a  never-ending 
Battle  with  Colonel  Bogey. 

Once  in  a  while  the  Town  needs  some  one  to  grab 
hold  and  organize  Public  Sentiment  and  get  Results. 

The  Committee  which  has  been  named  for  that 
Purpose  gets  together. 

The  Members  sit  around  a  Table  and  look  at  each 
other,  benumbed  and  helplesslike,  just  as  sprightly 
as  a  Congress  of  Jelly  Fish. 

They  know  that  they  need  a  Pace-Maker  with 
Pep  and  Ideas,  and  they  long  for  the  friendly  Aid 


76  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

of  good  old  Foster,  the  Guy  that  they  Harpooned  in 
18  different  Places. 

Sometimes  they  ask  him  to  come  back  and  be  the 
Village  Patsy  once  more,  but  he  nearly  always  has 
an  Engagement  with  the  Pro  to  go  out  on  the  Course 
and  overcome  a  Slice. 

Moral:  If  you  have  to  be  Burned  at  the  Stake,  be  a 
Good  Fellow  and  collect  your  own  Fire-Wood. 


THE  FABLE  OF  ALMOST  GETTING  BACK  TO  NATURE 

I*      JTR.  AND  MRS.  FORTESCUE  motored  to 

^/ 1    their  Camp  up  in  the  Wilderness. 
JL  V  JL      The  Corps  of  Servants  and  a  vast  Cargo 
of  Supplies  preceded  by  Rail. 

That  is,  they  were  supposed  to  precede  by  Rail, 
but  a  Bridge  burned  and  the  Streak  of  Rust  that 
wound  through  the  Woods  and  up  into  the  Hills 
went  Blooey. 

So  the  First  Cook  and  the  Second  Cook  and  the 
Door-Opener  and  the  Superintendent  of  Collar- 
Buttons  and  the  Feather-Duster  Twins  and  the 
imported  Hair-Fixer  were  all  laid  out  at  a  Whistling 
Post,  miles  from  their  Destination. 

They  could  not  get  the  Terrible  News  to  the  For- 
tescues,  because  the  Latter  were  off  the  Earth  some 
where,  speeding  along  in  the  Big  Balloon. 

Thus  it  befell  that  a  couple  of  Fortescues 
landed  in  at  the  gloomy  Fortress  which  some 
one,  in  a  Spirit  of  Levity,  had  labelled  a  Camp, 
but  no  trembling  Menials  poured  forth  to  meet 
them. 

There  they  were,  Leagues  and  Leagues  from 
Nowhere,  facing  the  grim  Necessity  of  waiting  on 
themselves. 

77 


78 


ALMOST  GETTING  BACK  TO  NATURE  79 

They  had  a  Chauffeur  with  them,  but  his  Con 
tract  read  that  he  should  drive  the  Car. 

He  could  not  be  expected  to  start  the  Fires  and 
prepare  8  kinds  of  Food  for  every  Meal  and  arrange 
the  Flowers  and  turn  down  the  Beds  and  Lay  out  the 
Corduroys  for  Master,  because  these  Duties  were 
outside  of  his  Department. 

Now,  the  Skeleton  in  Mr.  Fortescue's  Family 
Closet  was  that  Grandfather  built  a  Log  House  with 
his  own  Hands. 

As  for  Mrs.  Fortescue,  it  is  not  generally  known 
that  her  Mommer  was  born  on  a  Canal  Boat. 

Both  had  tried  hard  to  eradicate  all  Family 
Traits  and  Standardize  themselves  according  to 
English  Models,  but  they  must  have  made  a  Mess 
of  the  Job. 

For  Mr.  Fortescue  found  himself  out  in  the  Woods 
collecting  Chunks  for  the  Fireplaces,  and  Mrs.  F. 
began  to  drag  Stuff  out  of  Cedar  Chests  and  run 
down  a  Strip  of  Bacon  and  bust  an  Egg  into  the 
Coffee,  taking  it  all  up  just  where  Ma  had  left  off  in 
1898,  when  the  first  Dividend  came  in. 

They  found  that  they  could  put  Skillets  on  the 
Fire  rather  than  starve  to  Death  and,  Oh,  the  Lark 
they  had  next  morning! 

For  Mr.  Fortescue  learned  that  he  could  still  lace 
his  Shoes,  and  Mrs.  Fortescue  was  as  proud  as  Punch 
after  combing  her  own  Hair. 

It  was  really  a  postponed  Honeymoon. 

After  three  days  they  were  almost  Chummy. 


80  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Then  the  delayed  Train  pulled  in  and  they  had  to 
starch  up  and  Climb  back  on  the  Pedestals. 

Moral:  Full  many  a  good  F arm-Hand  is  hiding 
behind  a  Plaited  Shirt. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  SPOTLIGHTERS  AND  THE  SPOTTER 

ONCE  a  Traveller  arrived  at  a  Cure  where  the 
Water  of  the  Healing  Springs  smelled  so 
awful  that  the  Management  felt  justified  in 
asking  $10  a  Day. 

This  Traveller  was  a  City  Yap,  which  is  worse 
than  being  a  Begosher,  because  the  R.  F.  D.  Boob 
usually  knows  that  he  is  below  Par. 

The  City  Yap  is  a  Vertebrate  with  Shiny  Hair, 
living  under  the  dominion  of  the  Traffic  Cops. 

He  will  stand  in  front  of  a  Window,  with  others  of 
his  Kind,  for  an  Hour  at  a  time,  watching  a  powerful 
Blonde  demonstrate  a  Fireless  Cooker. 

When  $100,000,000  gets  married  to  a  Title,  it  is 
the  City  Yap  who  has  to  be  clubbed  back  by  the 
Police  so  that  the  Bride  can  get  her  Purchase  into 
the  Sanctuary. 

When  Jack  Dempsey  or  Prince  Blozotski  arrives 
by  Special  Train,  the  City  Yap  is  the  poor  Google- 
Eye  that  you  see  standing  in  the  Rain. 

He  believes  that  Greatness  means  having  one's 
Name  on  the  Front  Page;  consequently  it  is  better 
to  jump  off  the  Williamsburg  Bridge  than  to  be  an 
Emeritus  Professor  at  Johns  Hopkins. 

Perhaps   the   Reader  will  ask:  "Could   a   City 

81 


SPOTLIGHTERS  AND  SPOTTER         83 

Yap  afford  to  put  up  at  one  of  these  Ten-a-Day 
Resorts?" 

Listen ! 

Some  of  the  City  Yaps  have  been  to  Harvard. 
They  have  tailor-made  Underwear,  Gold  Service  for 
Company,  De  Luxe  Editions,  Divorce  Papers — 
Everything. 

This  particular  Species  of  Metropolitan  Mokus 
used  td  Boast  that  he  could  walk  into  any  Hotel  and 
the  Clerks  would  hoist  the  Flag. 

Such  a  Claim  might  not  seem  Portentous  to  one 
residing  in  Grand  Island  or  Waupaca  but  there  are 
Favoured  Spots  within  the  Republic  at  which  being 
known  by  the  Boys  behind  the  Desk  is  the  very 
Essence  of  Fame. 

Sure  enough,  the  Lad  who  gives  out  the  Keys 
recognized  the  Traveller  and  called  him  by  Name  and 
let  on  as  though  the  Tavern  had  just  opened  and  here 
was  the  first  Customer. 

After  the  newly  arrived  Delegate  from  the  Asphalt 
Jungles  had  read  a  Telegram  saying  that  Frazzing- 
ham  Preferred  had  advanced  from  f  to  f  on  a  Report 
that  the  King  of  Rumania  had  received  a  Letter 
from  the  King  of  Greece,  he  brushed  up  a  little  and 
then  sauntered  back  to  the  Bureau  of  Information 
and  asked  the  Room  Clerk  if  any  one  was  stopping 
in  the  House. 

Of  course  he  knew  that  some  500  Transients  of 
fair  Business  Standing  and  the  usual  Family  con 
nections  were  scattered  about  the  Premises. 


84  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

When  he  said  "Any  One,"  he  meant  did  they  have 
any  one  who  would  get  Attention  from  the  Head 
Waiter  Himself. 

A  true  Worshipper  of  the  Exalted  Few  regards  the 
common  Run  of  Humanity  as  mere  Whitebait.  If 
you  wish  to  hand  him  a  Thrill,  you  must  show  him  a 
Tarpon. 

"We  have  so  many  Stars  here  that  even  the 
Manager  is  trembling,*'  replied  Cuthbert,  the  refined 
Room  Clerk.  "Do  you  see  that  Bunch  out  on  the 
Piazza,  taking  the  Sun?  Leave  me  call  them  off  to 
you.  First,  there  is  Jimmy  Hooper,  supposed  to  be 
the  nerviest  Plunger  on  the  Exchange.  He  can  lose 
or  win  a  Million  without  disturbing  the  Ash  on  his 
Cigarette.  He  makes  all  the  other  High  Rollers  in 
the  world  look  like  Marble  Players.  He  is  King  of 
the  Gilt-Edge  Gams." 

"I  have  read  all  about  him  in  the  Papers,"  said  the 
Roof -Garden  Rufus. 

"Then  there  is  Mr.  Hiram  Cherrib,  who  has  closed 
out  all  his  big  Interests  and  puts  in  his  Time  endow 
ing  Hospitals  and  slipping  Coin  to  Presbyterian 
Colleges.  He  allows  that  he  will  shoot  every  Bean 
in  the  old  Tin  Box  and  die  Poor  if  he  can  do  good  to 
those  that  he  formerly  Did  so  successfully." 

"For  years  I  have  yearned  to  get  a  peek  at  Mr. 
Cherrib,"  said  the  Cafe  Habitue. 

"And  lookie!  There  is  Mrs.  Beverly  Margrave, 
often  called  the  uncrowned  Empress  of  the  American 
Hote  Mond.  You've  heard  of  her ! " 


SPOTLIGHTERS  AND  SPOTTER        85 

"HAVE  I?"  exclaimed  the  Bumpkin  from  the 
Boulevards. 

His  Nostrils  were  quivering. 

"She  was  a  Terwhilligus  from  Baltimore,  you  may 
recall.  I  know  People  who  would  give  their  Eye- 
Teeth  just  to  have  her  Insult  them.  Then  they 
could  say  they  had  Met  her.  Right  next  to  her  Nobs 
is  the  famous  preacher,  Rev.  Ormsby  Toncell.  They 
say  he  pulls  down  the  biggest  Salary  and  has  the 
swellest  lot  of  Box-Holders  of  any  Parson  in  this 
whole  Country.  Even  the  English  think  he's  Eng 
lish.  He  must  be  a  talented  Guy,  all  right ! " 

"Hardly  a  week  passes  but  I  see  an  Interview 
with  him,"  said  the  Subway  Simp. 

"As  I  live  and  breathe,  she's  out  there,  too!"  eja 
culated  the  highly  intelligent  Room  Clerk. 

"Who?"  asked  the  eager  Cosmopolite. 

"Lottie  Limmet,  the  big  Hit  in  that  new  Piece 
called  'Oh,  Lizzie!'  You  remember — the  Police 
made  them  change  it.  She  had  a  Song  that  caused  a 
Strike  in  the  Orchestra.  Some  of  the  Musicians  said 
they  had  Families." 

"I  tried  to  buy  Seats" — in  a  Choking  Whisper — 
"but  they  were  sold  out  Eight  Weeks  in  advance,  and 
the  Speculators  asked  Ten  for  Two  on  the  Aisle." 

"She  is  Some  Gal.  It  is  reported  that  they  are 
going  to  put  up  a  Statue  of  her  at  Yale.  The  Fe 
male  Party  right  near  her  is  supposed  to  be  the  Rich 
est  Woman  in  the  Western  Hemisphere." 

"You  don't  mean  Jane  Plummer,  the  Widow  that 


86 


SPOTLIGHTERS  AND  SPOTTER         87 

gets  a  Full  Page  in  the  Sunday  Issue  every  two  or 
three  weeks?"  asked  the  City  Chap,  his  Cup  of  Joy 
just  about  ready  to  slop  over. 

"None  other.  I  remember  reading  how  much  her 
Income  would  weigh  if  she  changed  it  into  Nickels. 
By  the  way,  there's  another  Big  Gun  out  there.  I 
didn't  notice  him  at  first.  Probably  you've  read  the 
Editorial  Attacks  on  Steve  Gurney,  the  Political 
Boss." 

"You  don't  mean  the  head  of  the  Venal  State 
Machine,  who  sits  in  a  Back  Room  and  gives  orders 
to  the  Legislature  and  dictates  Appointments  and 
pulls  all  that  Coarse  Stuff,  do  you?" 

"  That's  the  Bird !  I  can  see  that  you're  well  read. 
They've  been  trying  for  Years  to  get  something  on 
him  and  take  his  Measure,  but  he  is  still  riding  the 
Tractor." 

"Me  to  put  myself  next,"  said  Mr.  H.  Polloi.  "I 
don't  often  get  a  Close-Up  of  these  Immortals,  and 
I'm  sure  going  to  Periscope." 

So  he  edged  out  into  the  Sunlight  and  stalked  his 
Prey. 

There  was  one  empty  Chair  right  in  the  thick  of 
the  Who's  Who,  and  he  nailed  it. 

Oh,  Joy !     Oh,  Bliss !    And  a  couple  of  Raptures ! 

He  found  himself  within  smelling-distance  of  Lottie 
Limmet,  the  Forty-Second  Street  Parisienne. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  much  talked-of  Cutie. 

If  Colours  could  be  converted  into  Sounds  her 
Costume  would  have  been  a  Siren  Whistle. 


88  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

She  had  her  Limbs  crossed  in  such  a  way  as  to 
prove  that  she  spared  no  Expense,  but,  nevertheless, 
her  Knee-Caps  were  modestly  concealed. 

He  knew  it  was  She  or  Her  because  alongside  of  the 
Gay  Creature  and  very  Chummy  was  the  famous 
Wall  Street  Blokie,  Jimmy  Hooper,  dressed  up  like 
a  Horse. 

Yes,  indeed!  Shepherd's  Plaid,  Stripes  on  the 
Shirt,  and  a  Bow  Tie  that  looked  like  a  Clot  of  Blood. 

He  had  "Gambler"  placarded  all  over  him. 

Our  Hero  knew  that  every  Soubrette  has  a  Gentle 
man  Broker  Friend  who  gives  her  Tips  on  the  Mar 
ket,  so  that  ofttimes  she  will  clean  up  as  much  as 
$300,000  at  a  Crack  and  then  send  her  Mother  a 
Watch. 

He  knew,  because  that  was  the  part  of  the  Paper 
he  devoured. 

It  is  easy  to  get  acquainted  with  an  Actress,  so  in 
a  few  minutes  George  W.  Fresh  was  carrying  on  with 
the  Footlight  Favourite  and  exchanging  Hot  Ones 
with  Jimmy  the  Sport. 

Presently  the  one  who  had  been  identified  as  Steve 
Gurney,  Malefactor  and  Enemy  of  the  People,  edged 
over  with  his  Rocking  Chair  and  joined  in  the  gay 
chatter  of  the  Bohemians. 

After  giving  Steve  the  Up-and-Down,  it  was  easy 
to  believe  all  that  had  been  printed  about  him  in  the 
Righteous  Press. 

He  was  undershot  and  had  Fuzz  on  the  Back  of  his 
Hands. 


SPOTLIGHTERS  AND  SPOTTER         89 

He  looked  like  a  Vessel  Unloader  who  had  put 
on  a  Mail  Order  Suit  in  order  to  attend  a  Clam 
Bake. 

The  sort  of  Person  you  wouldn't  care  to  meet  in  a 
Lonesome  Street  on  a  Rainy  Night. 

While  the  Investigator  was  letting  himself  go, 
in  the  company  of  these  Abandoned  Characters,  and 
wondering  what  the  Boys  at  the  Lunch  Club  would 
say  when  he  pulled  it  on  them,  he  sized  the  other 
Notables  close  at  hand. 

Mrs.  Beverly  Margrave  was  perceptibly  annoyed 
by  the  immediate  presence  of  the  Canaille,  meaning 
Ordinary  Skates. 

Her  prim  but  high-priced  Suit  of  Quaker  Gray, 
the  chiselled  suggestion  of  Patrician  Reserve  on  her 
cold  features,  the  wince  of  Pain  and  the  lifted  Eye 
brow  when  Steve  Gurney  guffawed  loudly,  and  the 
fact  that  she  was  reading  George  Moore — all  these 
Items  meant  much  to  the  Observant  Traveller. 

Why  deny  Class  Distinction  when  even  a  Stranger 
can  single  out  a  True  Genevieve  with  Pink  Cor 
puscles? 

Near  the  Queen  of  the  Swagger  Set,  a  pale  Gentle 
man  in  somber  Attire  seemed  quite  lost  in  contempla 
tion  of  the  hazy  Landscape. 

He  gave  no  heed  to  the  gabby  Groundlings  only  a 
few  feet  away. 

He  held  daintily  between  the  Forefinger  and 
Thumb  a  White  Rose  with  slender  Stem. 

At  intervals  he  would  lift  the  gorgeous  Bloom  to 


90  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

the  Olfactory  Orifices  and  inhale  in  a  conservative 
manner,  closing  his  Eyes  and  seeming  to  pass  into 
a  pleasant  Trance. 

It  was  a  Cinch  to  place  this  Party  as  the  Rev. 
Ormsby  Toncell. 

The  absence  of  Jewellery,  the  Ascetic  Pallor,  the 
simple  adoration  of  Purity's  Emblem — all  these 
bespoke  a  Nature  more  Spiritual  than  Broadway. 

Out  by  the  Veranda  Rail,  seemingly  lost  in  Medita 
tion  as  he  propped  his  Chin  with  a  Newspaper  made 
into  a  Roll,  sat  Horace  Cherrib,  the  foremost  Bene 
factor  of  his  Time. 

The  City  Fellow  knew  him  by  the  Side  Whiskers. 

In  every  Good  Show,  the  Elderly  Person  with 
Money  who  is  trying  to  save  some  one  else  from  Ruin 
and  bring  Happiness  to  the  Deserving  carries  quite 
a  mess  of  Ivy  in  front  of  each  Listener. 

Even  if  there  had  been  no  Trade-Marks,  it  would 
have  been  a  Pipe  to  make  the  eminent  Philanthropist. 

The  Light  of  Goodness  twinkled  in  his  Baby  Blue 
Eyes  and  a  Smile  of  infinite  Kindliness  illumined  his 
Handsome  Diagram. 

He  seemed  oblivious,  detached,  quite  unaware  that 
others  were  watching  him. 

He  was  planning,  dreaming — what?  Possibly  new 
Hospitals  for  the  Crippled  Children,  more  Colleges 
for  the  Farm  Hands. 

It  was  worth  a  Day's  Journey  just  to  sit  and  look 
at  the  great  Cherrib. 

You  may  be  sure  that  the  Lynx  also  improved  this 


SPOTLIGHTERS  AND  SPOTTER         91 

Golden  Opportunity  to  get  a  line  on  Jane  Plummer, 
the  good  old  Standby  of  the  Sunday  Editor. 

He  knew  her  by  the  Ear-Bobs,  which  were  Pearls 
about  the  size  of  Ripe  Olives. 

He  had  put  in  a  lot  of  time  studying  Price  Tags 
and  he  judged  the  Pearls  would  fetch  close  to 
$50,000  apiece,  or  $100,000  for  the  Two. 

But,  of  course,  she  could  afford  it,  so  it  was  none 
of  his  Business. 

Mrs.  Plummer,  whose  Vast  Fortune  if  converted 
into  $1  Bills  and  placed  End  to  End  would  reach 
from  Boston  to  Omaha,  was  engaged  in  some  sort 
of  Fancy  Work  on  a  Tambourine  Frame. 

She  chatted  in  a  care-free  way  as  her  jewelled 
Fingers  plied  the  busy  Needle. 

Her  remarks  were  addressed  to  a  timid  little 
Woman  in  rusty  Black,  who  seemed  more  or  less 
Cowed,  which  proved  that  she  must  be  the  hired 
Companion. 

The  Boy  from  the  City  had  learned  by  a  careful 
course  of  Reading,  while  lying  in  Bed,  that  every 
Woman  of  tremendous  Wealth  is  trailed  by  a  Female 
Friday  who  is  addressed  by  her  last  Name. 

He  tried  to  pick  out  a  Label  for  this  Worm  and 
decided  that  it  might  be  Wiggins  or  Tubbs. 

While  he  was  wallowing  in  blissful  Juxtaposition  to 
the  Prominent,  some  one  touched  him  on  the  Shoulder. 

It  was  the  Room  Clerk. 

"I  am  off  Watch,"  said  the  Employee,  "and  will 
take  you  on  for  Nine  Holes." 


92  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Excusing  himself  from  the  Musical  Comedy  Star 
and  the  bold  Speculator  and  the  unprincipled  Cor- 
rupter,  he  started  for  the  Locker  Room  with  Cuth- 
bert,  who  had  put  him  next  to  the  King  Pins. 

"You  are  unquestionably  the  Child  of  Fortune," 
said  the  Room  Clerk.  "I  take  it  that  Mixer  is  your 
Middle  Name.  You  work  fast." 

"One  is  always  safe  in  flagging  a  theatrical  Fairy," 
was  the  modest  Reply.  "I  had  no  hesitancy  about 
busting  in  as  soon  as  I  heard  my  friend  Jimmy 
Hooper  kidding  her  along." 

"Why,  you  poor  Fish!  You  have  been  getting 
gay  for  a  Half  Hour  with  Mrs.  Beverly  Margrave, 
acknowledged  Leader  of  the  Young  Married  Set." 

"You  must  be  mistaken.  Mrs.  Margrave  was 
dressed  in  Gray  and  reading  one  of  them  High-Brow 
Books,  and  she  got  peeved  because  we  made  so  much 
Racket." 

"The  Lady  in  Gray  who  won't  speak  to  any  one  is 
Lottie  Limmet.  She  won't  even  sign  Autograph 
Albums." 

"Back  up!  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  Mrs. 
Beverly  Margrave,  who  comes  of  the  most  Aristo 
cratic  Family  in  Maryland,  would  stand  for  all  that 
Joshing  from  a  Rounder  like  Hooper?" 

"Are  you  talking  about  that  Buddie  with  the 
Loud  Checks  and  the  Crimson  Cravat?  " 

"Sure." 

"That  was  the  Rev.  Ormsby  Toncell,  and,  take  it 
from  me,  he's  a  regular  Human  Being." 


SPOTLIGHTERS  AND  SPOTTER        93 

"I  think  you're  Twisted." 

"  No  chance.     Room  Clerks  know  everything." 

"I'm  almost  positive  that  the  Reverend  Toncell 
sat  over  to  my  right.  He  was  dressed  something  like 
an  Undertaker  and  kept  smelling  a  Rose." 

"You  just  got  them  reversed,  that's  all.  The 
one  with  the  Rose  was  Jimmy  Hooper.  He's  Nuts 
about  Flowers  and  keeps  a  fresh  Bouquet  on  his  Desk 
all  the  time." 

"Have  you  got  the  unblushing  Face  to  tell  me  that 
the  Jolly  Party  with  the  Make-Up  was  the  exclusive 
Matron  and  that  a  celebrated  Preacher  wore  any 
such  Stripes  on  his  Shirt?  " 

"That's  what  I'm  trying  to  Convey." 

"Well,  I'll  prove  that  you're  off.  Do  you  think 
Mrs.  Beverly  Margrave  and  the  Rev.  Ormsby  Ton- 
cell  would  hobnob  with  Steve  Gurney  after  what  all 
the  newspapers  have  printed  about  him?" 

"  They  didn't  hobnob  with  Steve.  They  couldn't. 
He  never  goes  near  a  Silk  Stocking  unless  he  wants 
to  use  him,  and  then  he  sends  for  him." 

"  Didn't  I  see  it  with  my  own  Eyes?  " 

"Oh,  you  mean  the  big,  square-jawed  Burly  that 
never  buttons  his  Vest!  That  was  Horace  Cherrib, 
whom  I  told  you  about — the  one  that's  going  to  save 
the  World  by  feeding  it  $10  Bills." 

"I  don't  think  you  took  a  good  Look." 

"Cert'nly  I  did.  Steve  wasn't  near  you  Folks. 
He  sat  over  there  by  himself  and  never  chirped. 
'Silent  Steve,'  his  Friends  call  him." 


94  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

"I  refuse  to  believe  that  a  kind-faced  and  gentle 
Soul  like  that  is  really  the  Boss  of  a  disreputable 
Machine." 

"No  other  kind  could  be.  He  wins  out  by  making 
Friends." 

"Well,  anyway,  I  made  no  miscue  on  the  Rich 
Widow.  I  marked  her  by  the  Expensive  Pearls." 

"Where  do  you  get  that  Noise?  Her  Bill  for 
Jewellery  last  year  was  85  cents.  She  bought  a  jet 
Hat-Pin." 

"  Oh,  come  off !     You  don't  mean  to  say 

"Yes;  the  scared  little  Dame  in  the  Black  Gown, 
purchased  direct  from  one  of  our  largest  Department 
Stores,  has  more  Currency  than  you  and  I  could 
shovel  with  two  Shovels  in  two  Weeks." 

"How  about  the  one  with  the  enormous  Pearls 
and  the  seven  Rings?" 

"Oh,  that's  her  French  Maid — from  Wisconsin." 

Moral:  The  recognized  Types  never  run  true  to 
Form  during  the  Vacation  feriod. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  MAN  WHO  WANTED  His  EUROPE 

ONCE  there  was  a  Slave. 
For  many  Seasons  he  had  toiled  with 
creaking  Sinews  and  popping  Eye-Balls  so 
that  his  beloved  Corporation  would  never  have  to 
foozle  a  Dividend. 

Always  he  was  sustained  by  a  rose-coloured  Hope. 
Every  time  he  readjusted  his  clanking  Chains  he  told 
himself  that  some  day  he  would  bust  forth  from  his 
blithering  Bondage  and  jamboree  his  way  through 
Europe. 

The  Lantern  Slides  and  those  fascinating  ac- 
cordeon  Folders  put  out  by  Tourist  Agencies  had 
nursed  him  along  until  he  believed  that  Europe 
consisted  of  Sunrise  in  the  Tyrol,  and  Moonlight  on 
the  Grand  Canal. 

The  Old  World  promised  him  a  foretaste  of  Para 
dise,  minus  the  Moral  Restrictions. 

At  last  he  earned  his  Leave  of  Absence  and  had 
his  Collateral  all  counted  out,  but  he  got  word  that 
the  Elysian  Fields  had  been  all  jazzed  up  by  War. 

It  was  a  cruel  disappointment  to  the  would-be 
Pilgrim.  He  heard  the  clarion  call  of  the  full-page 
Advertisers,  who  told  him  to  See  America  First, 
but  when  a  True  Sport  has  got  himself  all  keyed  up 

85 


96  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

for  the  ravishments  of  Lake  Como  and  Aix-les- 
Bains  he  does  not  care  to  have  any  rhetorical  Pas 
senger  Agent  come  along  and  try  to  slip  him  St. 
Louis  as  a  Substitute. 

While  he  was  in  deep  grief  over  the  dishing  of  his 
Plans,  he  met  at  his  Club  an  elderly  Grouch  who 
had  travelled  so  much  that  he  had  begun  to  look 
British. 

The  poor  Chap  who  had  been  denied  the  Trans- 
Atlantic  Holiday  sat  down  with  the  fish-eyed  Vet 
eran  and  began  to  weep  into  his  Grape  Juice. 

It  seemed  that  he  had  his  Steamer  Shawl  and  the 
Phrase  Book  and  the  Letters  of  Introduction  all 
packed  and  was  ready  to  Yo-Heave-Ho,  when  the 
Blow-Off  came. 

" Control  yourself,"  advised  Mr.  Grouch.  "All 
is  not  lost.  I  know  the  dear  old  Stamping  Ground 
from  the  North  Cape  down  to  the  Blue  Grotto.  I 
have  seen  countless  hordes  of  first-time  Cookies  go 
ing  through  the  deadly  Routine.  If  you  will  follow 
my  Directions,  you  may  duplicate  all  of  the  essential 
Items  of  a  visit  to  Europe  without  yielding  up  your 
entire  Fortune  or  suffering  the  pangs  of  Nostalgia. 
In  other  words,  I  will  bring  the  Old  World  right  to 
your  own  Threshold." 

It  sounded  foolish  and  unlikely  but  the  Traveller 
persisted  that  he  could  deliver  the  Goods  and  even 
volunteered  to  draft  a  set  of  Rules  for  putting  the 
usual  experiences  of  a  Foreign  Tour  within  the  reach 
of  any  Poor  Family. 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE     97 

Next  day  he  sought  out  the  dejected  Wimp  who 
was  hungering  for  the  Eastern  Hemisphere. 

"Go  to  it,"  said  the  Veteran,  passing  over  a 
Screed  very  neatly  typed.  "  If  the  Game  of  Golf  and 
Vocal  Music  can  be  taught  by  a  Correspondence 
School,  there  is  no  earthly  Reason  why  you  should 
not  take  an  extended  Journey  while  remaining  Sta 
tionary." 

The  Directions  were  as  follows : 

Every  Fellow  His  Own  Europe 

SCORING  FOR  A  START — In  order  to  duplicate  the 
Joys  of  a  Grand  Tour  without  venturing  beyond 
Sandy  Hook,  the  first  Task  is  to  attend  several  going- 
away  Dinners. 

As  soon  as  you  are  feeling  logy  and  oppressed,  be 
gin  packing 

Collect  all  of  your  Wearing  Apparel  into  a  mound 
at  least  four  feet  high  and  then  crowd  the  whole 
Layout  into  a  low-browed  Steamer-Trunk  with 
baffling  Partitions. 

How  TO  BE  SEEN  OFF — You  are  now  ready  to  Sail. 
In  order  to  experience  the  usual  delirium  of  getting 
away  from  the  Dock,  stand  in  the  main  entrance  of  a 
Department  Store  for  one  hour  during  the  most  tur 
bulent  period  of  Shopping.  Surround  yourself  with 
superfluous  Friends  and  Relatives  and  have  them 
repeat  over  and  over:  "Bon  Voyage!  Bon  Voyage 


98  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Bon  Voyage!"  Carry  a  bouquet  of  Killarney  Roses 
and  promise  to  Write. 

Our  ON  THE  BOUNDING — You  are  now  ready  for 
the  Ocean  Voyage,  always  recommended  by  Doctors 
who  wish  to  get  shut  of  troublesome  Patients. 

Select  a  medium-sized  Closet,  entirely  boxed  in 
except  for  a  single  Opening  about  the  size  of  a  Grid 
dle-Cake.  Along  one  side  of  the  dim  Cubby-Hole 
build  a  Shelf,  or  Berth.  Measure  yourself  and  make 
the  Bunk  two  inches  shorter. 

Put  the  Steamer-Trunk  under  the  Sleeping- 
Trough.  Then  install  a  Wash-Stand  and  Wardrobe 
in  the  remaining  Corners,  so  that,  when  the  Trunk 
is  pulled  out  from  the  dim  Recess  under  the  Sar 
cophagus,  the  occupant  of  the  Cell  must  crawl  into 
Bed  in  order  to  reach  down  and  unpack  a  pair  of 
heavy  Socks.  This  sounds  intricate,  but  it  will  work 
out  unless  your  Closet  happens  to  be  larger  than  the 
ordinary  Stateroom. 

'While  at  sea,  you  are  supposed  to  rest.  For  six 
days  you  will  spend  most  of  your  time  on  a  cylindrical 
Mattress  in  the  dusky  Cavern  described  above. 
Every  hour  or  so  have  a  clammy  and  unsympathetic 
Stevedore  in  the  Costume  of  a  Street-Cleaner  come 
into  your  little  Vault  and  tell  you  that  the  Weather 
is  clearing. 

Each  day  you  must  rally  for  a  time  and  venture 
forth.  This  is  called  "Taking  the  Air."  Put  on 
some  damp  clothing,  climb  to  the  roof  of  your  House, 
and  lie  horizontally,  facing  the  Sky.  A  convincing 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE     99 

Detail,  tending  to  heighten  the  Verisimilitude,  would 
be  to  accept  a  Sea-Biscuit  every  little  while  from  a 
so-called  Steward.  Any  one  with  the  wrong  kind  of 
Mustache  can  impersonate  a  Steward.  No  matter 
how  often  he  appears,  you  must  inquire  of  him  as 
follows:  "When  do  you  think  we  will  land?"  He 
will  give  an  evasive  answer,  after  which  you  are  sup 
posed  to  take  a  Nap. 

Possibly  no  one  ashore  has  ever  voluntarily  gone 
in  for  Shuffleboard.  Still,  if  you  crave  Realism, 
borrow  a  Crutch  and  try  to  propel  wooden  Disks 
so  that  they  will  pause  within  a  rectangular  Area 
bounded  by  Chalk  Marks.  Do  this  in  Private,  or 
some  one  may  ask  to  have  a  Conservator  appointed. 

Hang  a  large  Bell  just  outside  your  Cabin  and 
arrange  to  have  some  one  beat  it  with  a  Hammer 
every  fifteen  minutes.  Each  time  you  hear  the  Bell, 
look  at  your  Watch. 

GREAT  BRITAIN'S  WELCOME  TO  THE  STRANGER — 
After  one  week  in  the  Closet,  you  must  imagine  that 
the  Good  Ship  is  lying  off  the  British  Coast,  which  is 
blurred  with  Fog  and  lacking  in  Detail. 

You  are  now  ready  to  travel  by  railway  up  to 
London.  This  unusual  Experience  may  be  dupli 
cated  if  you  will  consent  to  crowd  yourself  into  a 
Pullman  Compartment  with  five  Total  Strangers 
and  refrain  from  Conversation. 

Having  disembarked  in  Merrie  England,  you  are 
at  once  entitled  to  the  Knowledge,  carefully  withheld 


No  matter  how  often  he  appears,  you  must  inquire  of  him  as 
follows:  "  When  do  you  think  we  will  land  ?" 


100 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE    101 

from  the  General  Run  of  People  by  ail  Travellers, 
that  England  is  just  as  merry  as  the  side  view  of  a 
Hearse. 

CUTTING  LOOSE  IN  LONDON — In  order  to  imagine 
yourself  in  the  Modern  Babylon,  you  should  first  of 
all  go  to  a  Tailor  off  in  a  Side  Street  and  order  a 
$25  Suit  with  the  Trousers  fitting  snugly  under  the 
Arms  and  plenty  of  Excelsior  in  the  Shoulders. 

Then  drink  a  large  slug  of  the  Aromatic  Spirits  of 
Caledonia  diluted  with  tepid  Water. 

Ride  in  a  Taxi  until  you  are  dizzy,  after  which 
retire  to  a  Cold-Storage  Warehouse. 

Arrange  to  have  your  Dinner  served  in  a  Deaf 
and  Dumb  asylum.  By  closing  your  eyes,  you  can 
imagine  yourself  in  the  very  liveliest  corner  of  a  large 
Apartment  overlooking  the  Thames. 

Probably  you  have  been  honing  for  years  to  go 
rollicking  about  London  night  after  night,  dropping 
in  at  the  Halls  and  the  Revues.  Just  sit  in  a  cloud 
of  Tobacco  Smoke  and  have  some  one  feed  last  year's 
Ragtime  into  a  Talking  Machine,  and  you  will  get 
most  of  the  Sensations  awaiting  you  at  the  Pavilion 
or  the  Oxford. 

CROSSING  THE  CHANNEL — This  is  something  you 
will  want  to  talk  about  for  a  long  time  to  come,  so  do 
it  right.  Doubtless  your  Laundryman  will  give  you 
permission  to  ride  for  an  hour  in  one  of  his  restless 
rotary  Receptacles. 


102     ,     .     eHAND-MADE  FABLES 

SETTLING  DOWN  TO  A  SYSTEM — Assuming  that 
you  are  the  Typical  American  Traveller,  doubtless 
you  will  wish  to  clean  up  all  of  Europe  in  about  Six 
Weeks.  This  will  call  for  a  lot  of  Hard  Work  and  a 
very  compact  Schedule,  which  can  be  enacted  in  St. 
Joe,  Missouri,  or  Upper  Sandusky,  Ohio,  just  as 
easily  as  in  Rotterdam  or  Marseilles. 

Arise  every  morning  and  rub  yourself  casually 
with  a  damp  Sponge. 

Eat  a  hard  Roll,  coated  with  Shellac,  and  be  sure 
that  your  Coffee  is  sufficiently  modified  by  Chicory 
and  drowned  in  Hot  Milk. 

Spend  an  hour  in  packing  everything  that  you  un 
packed  the  previous  afternoon. 

Hurry  out  to  a  City  Ticket  Office.  After  you  have 
elbowed  your  way  to  a  desirable  Frontage,  claim  the 
attention  of  the  frigid  Lad  with  the  striped  Shirt  and 
talk  him  to  a  Standstill.  Remember  that  five  per 
cent,  of  all  the  time  spent  in  Europe  must  be  given 
over  to  the  painful  consideration  of  Time-Tables. 

Each  day  you  must  buy  a  stack  of  Post-Cards, 
done  in  passionate  Colors.  Address  them  to  distant 
Relatives.  Also  to  the  Neighbours  you  dislike,  so  as 
to  make  them  envious.  Write  something  sappy 
along  the  border  of  each  Card. 

Don't  forget  your  Tipping.  To  make  sure  of  up 
holding  your  country's  Reputation  and  to  observe 
all  Precedents,  push  a  small  Piece  of  Silver  toward 
everyone  who  deigns  to  notice  you. 

At  least  once  a  Day  retire  to  a  stuffy  Apartment, 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE    103 

billed  as  a  Salon,  and  carefully  read  a  Boston  News 
paper  about  three  Weeks  old.  Also  peruse  eight 
pages  of  microscopical  Printing  in  a  red  Guide-Book. 
What  with  the  packing  and  unpacking,  the  mad 
gallop  to  the  Booking  Office,  the  fluttering  uncer 
tainty  over  the  selection  of  the  Cartes  Postales,  the 
prolonged  endeavour  to  remember  all  of  your  remote 
Kin,  the  Tipping,  the  Tabble  Dotty,  the  customary 
search  through  the  Reading-Room  for  something  re 
cent,  the  devotional  hour  with  Baedeker,  and  the 
attempt  to  select  a  Train  by  which  to  escape  to  the 
next  Jump,  the  Day  will  become  so  crowded  that 
you  will  not  have  to  waste  much  time  on  Galleries, 
Cathedrals,  Museums,  and  Shops. 

HOW      TO      RECOVER      FROM      THE      CHAUTAUQUA 

FEVER — For  the  first  Fortnight  of  this  supposititious 
Flight  across  the  Continent,  you  should  endeavour  to 
churn  up  a  frothing  interest  in  the  Educational 
Features  of  the  Tour.  Two  weeks  will  be  long  enough. 
Most  of  the  Students  who  have  taken  a  preliminary 
Course  of  Reading,  so  they  will  understand  every 
thing  they  see,  begin  to  stall  and  lay  off  after  about 
four  days.  The  more  violent  the  early  Attack  the 
more  rapid  the  Recovery,  after  which  you  will  be 
Immune. 

ART — Any  collection  of  Paintings  with  Gold 
Frames  will  serve  as  a  substitute  for  a  famous 
Gallery.  When  you  discover  that  you  cannot  dis- 


104  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

criminate  between  a  Notable  Canvas  and  the  kind 
displayed  in  every  good  Buffet  in  Atlantic  City,  you 
will  be  shamed  and  discouraged,  and  begin  looking 
for  an  Exit. 

Even  if  you  pump  up  a  genuine  interest,  you  will 
be  google-eyed  after  you  have  studied  some  200 
Masterpieces.  Be  on  the  level  with  yourself.  If 
you  will  not  walk  across  the  Street  in  your  Native 
Town  to  look  at  the  real  Specimens  of  Art  imported 
by  some  generous  Millionaire,  don't  kid  yourself  into 
thinking  that  you  will  blossom  into  a  Ruskin  Fan 
when  you  go  abroad. 

No  matter  how  many  Miles  a  Man  may  travel,  he 
will  never  get  ahead  of  Himself. 

MUSEUMS — The  passion  for  Museums  will  evapor 
ate  ever  so  rapidly.  If  you  want  to  know  what  it 
feels  like  to  visit  a  famous  Museum,  walk  rapidly 
through  the  Crockery  Department  of  any  large  Re 
tail  Establishment  and  you  will  get  all  of  the  Thrills. 

ARCHITECTURE,  ETC. — We  come  now  to  the  noble 
Edifices.  Let  us  see  if  we  can  find  close  at  hand 
something  Colossal  and  Ornate  which  will  cause  us 
to  throb.  A  man  of  ordinary  Physique  is  good  for 
only  about  two  large  Throbs  in  one  day.  Why  not 
stand  in  front  of  a  gigantic  Railway  Station  in  New 
York  City  and  remove  the  Hat?  Then  have  some 
one  remark  that  the  Fagade  was  built  by  Spinkadelli 
in  the  Thirteenth  Century.  Emit  a  sigh  of  Admi- 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE    105 

ration,  replace  the  Hat,  and  you  will  be  just  as  well 
off  as  if  you  were  in  Milano. 

By  this  time  you  are  scoffing  at  my  Instructions. 
If  you  think  that  the  Average  Traveller  retains  any 
thing  valuable  or  lasting  from  his  jumble  of  hurried 
Impressions,  why  not  make  Casual  Inquiry  of  some 
Highbrow  Friend  who  took  the  Mediterranean  Trip 
last  winter?  Ask  him  about  Rome — the  recognized 
headquarters  for  impressive  Antiquities.  He  will 
tell  you  that  he  paid  $7  a  day  for  his  Room  and  had 
to  walk  down  the  Hallway  to  get  a  Bath. 

PICKING  UP  ODD  LITTLE  THINGS — Regarding 
the  Shops,  I  am  compelled  to  confess  that,  by  diligent 
search  through  the  smaller  Establishments  of  Re 
gent  Street  and  Rue  de  la  Paix,  one  may  dig  up  al 
most  any  Article  of  Merchandise  listed  in  our  own 
Sunday  Papers. 

GUIDES — If  it  is  your  first  ride  on  the  Merry-go- 
Round,  you  will  ask  for  a  Guide  at  each  Halting- 
Place.  An  unexaggerated  Replica  of  the  Continen 
tal  Guide  may  be  found  in  any  Community.  Hunt 
up  a  shabby  Confidence  Man  with  an  imperfect 
Knowledge  of  English.  Follow  him  about  in  a 
shamefaced  Manner  and  submit  weakly  to  his  brazen 
Dictates,  and  you  will  know  just  how  it  feels  to  be 
nagged  through  the  Streets  of  Naples. 

COLLECTING  COINS — This  is  important.  Don't 
fail  to  take  in  a  few  pieces  of  Bad  Money  each  day. 
Preserve  as  Souvenirs. 


106  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

USEFUL  EMPLOYMENT  OF  SPARE  TIME — Assum 
ing  that  the  Tourist  has  foundered  himself  on  Cathe 
drals,  Birthplaces,  and  Mountain  Scenery,  and  that 
the  packing  and  unpacking,  the  low-comedy  Inscrip 
tions  on  the  Post-Cards,  &c.,  &c.,  do  not  take  up  all 
of  his  time,  and  that,  at  favoured  Intervals,  he  can 
elude  the  Guides,  what  may  be  regarded  as  the 
regular  and  steady  Avocation  of  the  homeless 
Wanderer? 

All  courageous  Itinerants  have  the  same  Finish. 
After  a  few  heartfelt  Days  among  the  Memorial 
Statues  and  the  Mildew,  they  are  content  to  put 
in  Hour  after  Hour  gazing  blankly  at  Window- 
Displays  or  haggling  with  fluent  Banditti. 

Remember  it  is  not  necessary  to  travel  4,000  miles 
in  order  to  loaf  in  front  of  Shop  Windows  or  slather 
the  Express  Orders  on  Junk. 

How  TO  GO  ASTRAY — We  come  now  to  the  Gay 
Life.  Let  us  assume  that  you  are  in  Paree,  although 
any  town  in  which  you  are  totally  ignorant  of  the 
Language  or  the  local  Devices  of  the  Criminal  Ele 
ment  will  insure  you  the  same  opportunities  as  a 
Producer. 

If  you  will  ooserve  the  following  Routine  (remem 
bering  that  you  are  to  use  the  Sign-Language  at  all 
times),  you  can  garner  the  same  unalloyed  Delights 
in  Pittsburgh  as  if  you  were  in  the  mad  whirl  of  some 
place  really  Wicked. 

First  of  all,  spend  several  hours  seated  at  an  Iron 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE    107 

Table  in  the  Open  Air,  sipping  a  weak  imitation  of 
Maple-Sirup.  While  decanting  the  sticky  compound 
into  your  surprised  Interior,  smoke  the  lowest- 
priced  Stogie  obtainable  at  a  Grocery  Store.  You 
never  can  get  into  the  real  Atmosphere  of  the  Old 
Country  if  you  carry  good  Cigars. 

This  Ceremonial  of  sitting  at  the  Iron  Table  and 
watching  the  crowds  move  by  is  known  as  "Getting 
Into  the  Cafe  Life,"  and  is  about  the  most  tingling 
experience  that  awaits  the  impressionable  Pilgrim. 

While  you  are  seated  at  the  Table,  arrange  to  have 
several  Human  Reptiles  in  glistening  Frock  Coats 
come  up  and  furtively  submit  for  your  approval  the 
kind  of  Photographs  that  no  Man  who  expects  to 
drop  dead  would  care  to  have  on  his  Person. 

After  you  have  remained  at  the  Iron  Table  until 
you  feel  that  you  are  really  getting  into  a  close 
relationship  with  the  very  Soul  of  the  Native 
Population,  you  must  dine  at  a  famous  Restaurant. 
You  can  get  the  same  Environment  here  at  home  as 
on  the  Other  Side,  because,  in  either  instance,  you 
will  be  surrounded  by  loud-talking  Yankees. 

Furthermore,  in  order  to  exhibit  easy  Familiarity 
with  the  Vintage  mysteries,  you  had  better  order 
something  puckery  and  high-priced,  with  Cobwebs 
on  the  outside.  Slip  in  a  remark  about  the  "  Cuvee," 
and  possibly  no  one  will  suspect  that  for  thirty  years 
you  have  been  training  on  Well  Water. 

In  the  Evening  you  would  go  to  the  Teatro.  If 
you  want  to  know  how  it  feels  to  sit  through  the 


While  you  are  seated  at  the  Table,  arrange  to  have 
several  Human  Reptiles  in  glistening  Frock  Coats  come  up 
and  furtively  submit  for  your  approval  the  kind  of  Photo 
graphs  that  no  man  who  expects  to  drop  dead  would  care  to 
have  on  his  Person 

108 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE    109 

Drama  far  from  home,  go  into  any  Show  Shop,  tip 
the  Usher,  and  sit  in  the  back  row  wearing  Ear-Muffs. 

Do  not  bother  with  the  Opera.  All  the  high- 
priced  Thrushes  will  be  warbling  in  New  York. 

As  for  Cabaret  Stuff  and  sitting  next  to  the 
Hungarian  Noise-Makers  until  2  A.  M.,  do  you  fancy 
that  any  Country  on  the  Map  can  give  us  Pointers 
on  Disorderly  Conduct? 

TOURING  DE  LUXE — Let  us  not  forget  the  Motor 
ing.  No  doubt  you  have  dreamed  of  spinning 
through  Normandy  or  surfeiting  yourself  on  the 
Rural  Landscapes  of  the  Shakespeare  Country.  Be 
assured  that  all  you  can  derive  from  Motoring, 
either  at  home  or  abroad,  is  an  acute  Vertigo.  Tour 
ing  in  all  countries  is  now  done  at  Top  Speed  and  is 
seemingly  planned  for  the  entertainment  of  the 
Chauffeur.  The  Passengers  go  with  him  to  ballast 
the  Car  and  pay  for  Tires. 

USEFUL  HINT — Before  I  forget  it,  here  is  a  Daily 
Exercise  which  will  help  to  create  the  Illusion  that 
you  are  a  regular  Traveller.  When  ever  you  go  into 
the  Street,  take  with  you  a  Camera,  a  Rain-Coat,  a 
pair  of  Binoculars,  and  a  Guide-Book.  Shift  them 
frequently  without  dropping  anything. 

HOMEWARD  BOUND — If  you  will  observe  the  Daily 
Routine,  as  roughly  indicated,  for  several  weeks, 
eating  Strange  Food  all  of  the  time,  you  will  be  over- 


110  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

joyed  when  you  can  go  back  into  your  Closet  and 
spread  yourself  out  on  the  Shelf  for  the  Return  Voy 
age. 

At  the  end  of  a  Week  have  a  suspicious  Stranger 
overhaul  your  Luggage  and  regard  you  as  a  Smug 
gler.  He  will  be  justified  in  doing  so. 

ADDENDA — Get  some  Labels  and  paste  them  on 
your  Boxes  and  Bags. 

Sort  out  the  Curios  and  Gimcracks  and  give  them 
away  before  they  Pall  on  you. 

Hurry  to  your  own  Bathroom  and  the  Spring  Mat 
tress  and  be  thankful  that  you  lasted  through  it. 

I  almost  forgot  to  add  that  in  taking  this  Home 
Treatment  you  will  escape : 

The  Ship's  Concert,  including  the  jovial  Army 
Officer  who  can't  sing  but  does. 

The  human  Megaphone  with  an  American  Flag 
on  his  Lapel. 

The  Fluff  who  wants  a  Partner  for  Bridge. 

The  Monarch  of  the  Seas  who  has  crossed  forty- 
two  times. 

In  conclusion,  I  don't  expect  you  to  follow  Direc 
tions,  even  if  they  are  spoken  from  the  Heart. 

THE  END 

When  the  unhappy  Stay-at-Home  concluded  the 
silly  Document,  he  knew  that  the  Writer  was  a 
cheap  Iconoclast  with  a  jitney  Intelligence. 


MAN  WHO  WANTED  HIS  EUROPE    111 

He  still  believed  all  that  he  had  read  in  those 
wonderful  Syndicate  Letters  prepared  in  the  Read- 
ing-Room  of  the  Public  Library. 

Moral:  Many  are  wise  to  Europe,  but  few  have 
the  Manhood  to  speak  out. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  KITTENISH  SUPERANNS  AND 
THE  WORLD-WEARY  SNIPES 

ONCE  upon  a  Time  an  ambitious  Cove  sepa 
rated  himself  from  his  native  Shire  and 
made  a  long  Trek. 

He  came  of  one  of  those  Nice  Families  that  had 
run  out  of  nearly  everything  except  Prestige. 

The  Migrater  carried  a  flossy  Label.  He  had  been 
I  christened  Adelbert  Justitian. 

As  he  progressed  from  Pin-Feathers  to  the  Age 
of  Discretion,  he  became  Joseph  to  the  Cruel  Knowl 
edge  that  his  swell  Moniker,  together  with  the  Fact 
that  his  Father  had  been  given  a  Sword  by  the  Regi 
ment,  and  the  further  Fact  that  his  Aunt  had  con 
tributed  to  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  were  not  bringing 
in  any  Jack. 

They  were  Proud  Possessions  but  he  could  not  con 
vert  them  into  Pork  Chops. 

He  wanted  a  Roll. 

The  Home-Town  Method  of  slipping  $2.75  every 
Saturday  to  the  flaccid  Willie  in  the  Savings  Bank 
did  not  look  very  Efficacious  to  Adelbert. 

He  wanted  his  Gelt  for  himself  and  not  for  the 
acidulated  Relatives  who  sent  him  the  punk  Christ 
mas  Cards. 

112 


THE  KITTENISH  SUPERANNS        113 

He  went  right  out  into  what  is  called  God's  Coun 
try  by  the  Promoters  doing  business  there. 

Out  where  he  could  lean  up  against  Ozone  and 
Scenery. 

As  soon  as  he  escaped  from  his  Social  Prerogatives 
and  became  known  as  "Dell,"  he  began  to  deliver 
the  Trading  Stamps  and  bring  home  the  Side- 
Meat. 

After  many  leaves  had  been  torn  from  the  Cal 
endars  issued  by  Insurance  Companies,  a  self-made 
Millionaire  showed  up  on  the  Native  Heath. 

The  local  Fungi  looked  askance  at  the  Cow- 
Puncher  Hat,  dented  in  from  the  Top  with  geome 
trical  Nicety,  but  they  warmed  to  the  Long-Lost 
when  they  learned  that  he  was  there,  much,  yet  and 
besides  with  all  shapes  of  the  needful  Brass. 

The  Adelbert  Justitian  did  not  harmonize  with 
a  Soft  Collar.  He  had  his  Cards  printed  "A.  J." 
and  decided  to  chop  on  the  Money-Grubbing  and 
devote  his  Time  to  being  a  Good  Scout.  | 

The  Life  Dream  of  every  Coin  Collector  is  to  go 
back  to  his  original  P.  O.  Address  and  bleat  at  those 
who  never  could  see  anything  in  him. 

Old  A.  J.  felt  a  snickering  Satisfaction  when  he 
bought  a  Country  Place  with  a  Garage  and  Terraces. 

He  told  the  Interior  Decorators  to  go  as  far  as 
they  liked. 

That  kind  of  Language,  addressed  to  an  Interior 
Decorator,  is  about  the  most  Expensive  Chatter 
that  can  be  spilled. 


114  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  returned  Exile  was  game.  He  liked  the 
Gaff.  His  Shack  was  to  be  a  Bird. 

While  A.  J.  had  been  garnering  the  Wampum,  he 
had  not  kept  close  Tab  on  Social  Evolution. 

So  far  as  Parlour  Antics  were  concerned,  he  was  a 
Flying  Lizard  and  belonged  in  the  age  of  Flint  Weap 
ons.  He  was  still  mooching  around  in  the  prime 
val  Period  of  the  Oyster  Supper  and  the  Military 
Schottische. 

When  he  got  ready  to  exhibit  his  Chateau  to  the 
Townsmen  his  first  Idea  was  a  Lawn  Party  with 
Paper  Lanterns  and  a  churn  of  Lemonade  but  some 
one  tipped  the  Boob  that  he  would  be  expected  to 
pull  a  few  House  Parties. 

It  rather  jarred  him  when  he  learned  that  he  was 
expected  to  haul  bunches  of  People  out  to  his  House 
and  Board  them  for  a  while  and  also  arrange  the 
Premises  so  that  a  Guest  could  not  move  in 
any  direction  without  coming  face  to  face  with  a 
Canteen. 

It  was  the  approved  British  Dope,  however,  and 
he  had  to  go  through  with  it. 

Also  he  began  to  hear  about  the  Sets. 

When  he  left  the  simple  Burg,  away  back  in  the 
Era  of  Buffalo  Robes  and  low-crowned  Derbies,  any 
kind  of  a  Shindig  was  free-for-all. 

Now  the  Lines  were  being  drawn.  He  had  to 
submit  his  Lists  to  a  few  of  the  Huckleberry-Doos 
and  they  used  the  Blue  Pencil  without  compunction. 

Some  of  the  Old  Boys  and  former  Sweethearts 


THE  KITTENISH  SUPERANNS        115 

were  pushed  into  the  Discard  because  their  Manners 
were  too  Low  or  their  Gowns  were  too  High — that 
is,  in  the  Neck. 

The  real  Tamales  refused  to  accept  a  Bid  to  any 
Doings  except  on  a  Guarantee.  They  could  not 
turn  down  A.  J.,  because  his  deceased  Relatives  had 
been  Eminent,  but  they  showed  him  how  to  head 
in  and  where  to  get  off. 

At  last  the  Invites  were  sent  out  and  all  the  names 
were  extremely  Delicatessen. 

The  first  week-end  Session  was  to  be  a  quiet  Af 
fair  for  the  antique  Quackydoodles  and  the  Spec 
tacled  Hens  w^hom  A.  J.  had  known  in  the  Happy 
Days  agone. 

It  was  to  be  a  Combination  of  Chautauqua,  Bean 
Bag,  and  Peace  Conference. 

But  the  second  Party,  it  was  to  be  Some  Jubilee! 

It  was  to  be  wide-open  and  Hoorah,  for  the  Great 
House  on  the  Hill  was  to  resound  with  the  Laughter 
of  gay  Debutantes,  while  the  blithe  Lads  from  the 
Varsity  were  to  group  at  the  Baby  Grand  and  sing 
about  Bonnie. 

A.  J.  was  scared  over  the  prospect  of  trying  to 
cook  up  a  little  Diversion  for  the  Silver-Grays  but 
he  knew  the  Kids  would  cut  loose  and  have  a  regular 
Lark. 

The  Host  could  not  get  it  out  of  his  Bean  that 
he  was  expected  to  make  a  Fuss  over  his  Visitors 
and  see  that  they  were  being  royally  entertained. 

The  Rivers  are  dragged  every  Summer  for  Society 


116  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

People  who  jump  in  to  escape  the  Host  who  tries  to 
be  Considerate. 

A.  J.  had  a  dandy  little  Time-Table  all  rigged  out 
for  the  Old  Codgers. 

They  were  to  arrive  Saturday  p.  M. 

After  Dinner  there  would  be  a  Session  of  Pro 
gressive  Euchre  for  Neat  Prizes  such  as  Work- 
Baskets  and  Manicure  Sets. 

This  would  be  all  over  and  out  by  Ten  O'Clock 
because  the  Fathers  and  Mothers  of  Grown  Chil 
dren  could  not  sit  up  until  all  hours  of  the  Night, 
playing  Cards. 

How  to  tide  them  over  the  Sabbath  Day  was  a 
sure-enough  Problem. 

He  put  plenty  of  Recent  Fiction  all  around  the 
place,  careless  like. 

The  Men  were  to  be  walked  around  and  shown  the 
Garden  and  Orchard  and  the  new  Litter  of  Pups. 

Two  Motors  were  ordered  to  be  on  hand  for  those 
wishing  to  attend  Divine  Services  in  the  Village. 

By  sorting  over  the  Rolls,  the  Master  of  the  House 
found  some  Sacred  Music  to  be  fed  into  the  Player- 
Piano. 

The  long,  dull  Sabbath  Evening  still  stood  vacant 
on  the  Schedule. 

As  nearly  as  A.  J.  could  remember  back  into  the 
days  of  Youth,  the  only  reasonable  thing  to  do  on 
Sunday  Evening  is  to  drink  a  Glass  of  Milk  and  Keel 
backward  on  to  a  Feather  Tick. 

He  wanted  to  frame  some  kind  of  Time-Killing 


THE  KITTENISH  SUPERANNS        117 

Specialty,  but  Games  and  Pastimes  were  not  suitable 
for  the  Day  of  Rest  and  he  was  not  sure  that  any 
of  the  Ladies  could  Sing. 

He  decided  that  after  the  Group  had  re-assembled 
in  what  he  called  the  Front  Room  he  would  pull  a 
little  Spiel  on  the  Duty  of  America  in  the  World-Crisis 
and  ask  for  an  Expression  of  Views  and  thus  stall 
along  until  Nine-Thirty,  when  it  would  be  time  to 
Turn  In. 

The  Sere  and  Yellows  arrived  on  the  Dot  but 
thirty  seconds  after  they  weighed  in,  the  beautiful 
Outline  of  Business  prepared  by  A.  J.  was  hit  in  the 
head  and  thrown  over  the  Precipice. 

They  seemed  to  realize  that  they  were  away  out 
in  the  Country,  and  governed  themselves  accordingly. 

They  Tested  the  Welkin  and  threw  Kisses  at  the 
Life-Saving  Station. 

The  Heads  of  Large  Business  Concerns  wanted 
to  know  if  they  could  peel  their  Coats  and  did  the 
Ordinances  prohibit  Rough  House? 

From  the  first  sound  of  the  Gong,  it  did  not  look 
like  a  Progressive  Euchre  Party. 

Only  about  seventeen  or  eighteen  Persons  were 
talking  at  the  same  time. 

A.  J.  had  planned  to  move  about  and  act  as 
Greeter  and  make  them  feel  at  Home. 

Before  he  had  time  to  Spring  the  Neat  Phrases  he 
had  rehearsed,  he  found  himself  hemmed  in  by  the 
Shoulder-Slappers . 

They  gave  a  Rouse  in  the  Spring-Time  for  Little 


118  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Playmate  and  told  him  his  Road  House  was  a 
Bear. 

The  Bridles  were  off  and  they  did  not  have  to  be 
personally  Conducted. 

Every  time  A.  J.  started  in  to  give  Directions, 
some  one  proposed  Three  Rousing  Cheers. 

It  was  one  of  those  Parties  at  which  all  the  Host 
has  to  do  is  keep  up. 

They  raved  about  his  House  and  View  toward 
the  West. 

They  spoke  in  the  most  complimentary  Terms  of 
the  Country  Air  which  he  had  provided. 

He  felt  flushed  and  delighted  and  Important. 

He  had  spent  $30,000  getting  ready  for  the  Proud 
Moment  and  he  was  to  the  Good  within  an  Hour 
after  the  Adult  Rowdies  piled  in  on  him.  They 
handed  him  $50,000  worth  of  Bunk. 

As  he  sat  at  the  Head  of  the  Table  that  evening 
and  received  a  Bombardment  of  clamorous  Con 
versation,  he  began  to  tumble  to  the  Fact  that  Life 
among  the  Well-to-Do  had  perked  up  about  80  or 
90  Per  Cent  while  he  had  been  wasting  his  Time  in 
the  Far  West. 

There  was  more  Latitude  in  the  department  of 
Anecdotes. 

Also  a  more  pronounced  Tinge  of  Indigo. 

As  long  as  the  prominent  Matrons  stood  without 
hitching  he  tried  to  let  on  to  appear  not  to  be  Feazed. 

He  hooked  his  Feet  around  the  Table-Leg  and  tied 
Tiis  Napkin  in  a  Hard  Knot  when  some  of  the  Fe- 


THE  KITTENISH  SUPERANNS 

male  Members  of  his  old  Sunday  School  Class  began 
to  blow  Cigarette  Smoke  out  of  the  Ears,  Eyes  and 
Noses. 

Being  a  True  Sport,  he  never  let  on. 

Before  he  had  a  Chance  to  pull  a  Boner  and  sug 
gest  the  prehistoric  Euchre,  all  the  Card  Tables 
were  whisked  away  and  the  Loud  Needle  was  at 
work  in  the  Ragaphone. 

He  saw  reputable  Women,  with  Grandchildren  in 
the  Third  and  Fourth  Readers,  get  right  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  Floor  and  slap  Father  Time  in  the  Face. 

The  Prizes  he  had  on  hand  were  awarded  a  couple 
of  neat  Tangoers  not  much  past  65. 

They  slowed  up  and  sought  the  Hay  about  the 
time  that  Railroad  Men  go  to  work. 

The  next  Day  being  Sunday  the  poor  old  Decreps 
had  to  jump  under  the  Showers  early  so  as  to  get 
in  36  holes. 

There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  run  on  Recent 
Fiction,  but  the  staring  Villagers,  on  their  way  to 
Services,  saw  the  Autos  buzz  right  on,  past  the 
Methodist  Mosque  and  out  to  the  Country  Club. 

What  with  Food  and  Moisture  and  Bridge  and  a 
little  more  Stepping,  the  vigilant  Master  of  Cere 
monies  had  no  chance  whatever  to  sound  them  on 
the  Situation  in  Europe.  He  could  not  discover 
that  they  had  heard  about  the  late  War. 

They  arose  Monday  morning  all  freshened  up, 
having  slept  a  Grand  Total  of  nearly  6  Hours. 

He  had  to  glad-hand  them  out  of  the  Gate  and 


120 


THE  KITTENISH  SUPERANNS        121 

listen  while  they  boosted  him  and  his  cute  little 
Villa  and  told  him  he  was  a  Prince. 

For  two  days  he  rested  and  then  he  began  to 
Train  for  the  real  Joyfest. 

•  The  Old  Ones  had  simply  dazed  him  by  their 
|  demonstration  of  Class  and  their  Ability  to  stay  in 
the  High  while  going  Up-Hill. 

He  decided  that  the  rollicking  Juniors  probably 
would  break  a  lot  of  Furniture  and  put  his  Home  on 
the  Blink. 

He  had  the  Corners  of  the  House  re-enforced  and 
told  the  Servants  not  to  come  running  in,  no  matter 
what  Noises  they  heard. 

A.  J.  was  just  as  rejuvenated  as  a  Lambkin  when 
he  stood  out  in  front  to  welcome  the  Buds  and  the 
Striplings.  He  was  all  Set  to  be  just  as  Young  as 
any  Nestling  in  the  Covey. 

Soon  after,  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 
pale  Young  Women  who  seemed  unable  to  straighten 
out  any  of  their  Extremities  and  who  gazed  at  him 
reproachfully,  as  if  they  had  heard  something  about 
him. 

Behind  them  stood  a  compact  Huddle  of  He- 
Whiffets  who  sized  him  up  with  what  seemed  to  be 
Gloomy  Apprehension. 

He  pulled  a  weak  Bromide  about  Liberty  Hall 
but,  just  as  it  escaped  him,  he  realized  that  it  sounded 
Hollow  and  Unconvincing. 

Some  of  them  smiled  back  but  it  appeared  to  Hurt. 

He  saw  them  climb  wearily  to  their  Apartments 


122  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

and  then  he  sat  in  one  Chair  after  another,  wondering 
what  he  was  up  against. 

He  surmised  that  it  would  be  a  hefty  Job  to  stage 
manage  any  Revels  for  the  Troupe  of  Trained 
Chilblains. 

They  were  all  young  and  well  provided  for.  He 
wondered  why  they  were  so  Discouraged. 

He  knew  that  not  one  of  them  had  been  farther 
away  than  Toledo,  Ohio.  He  could  not  make  out 
why  they  were  so  blooming  Blase. 

After  an  incredible  Lapse  of  Time  they  began  to 
descend  the  Stairway,  one  at  a  time  and  fall,  semi- 
recumbent,  on  the  Uphotetery 

They  seemed  passionately  fond  of  long  and  brood 
ing  Silences  but  they  inspected  their  Surroundings 
with  a  cold  and  filmy  Eye. 

Although  they  did  not  speak  out  and  say  so,  the 
Owner  felt  that  they  disapproved  of  Him  and  the 
jiggly  Ornament  up  the  side  of  his  Hose  and  the 
Grand  Rapids  Furniture  and  the  Pattern  of  the  Rug 
and  the  Tassels  on  the  Curtains. 

He  had  learned  to  do  a  little  Mind-Reading  on  the 
Side  while  accumulating  his  Pile  and  he  guessed 
that  they  were  thinking  as  follows:  "We  are  here 
and  at  your  Mercy.  We  expect  to  be  Bored  but 
don't  kid  yourself  into  thinking  that  you  can  put 
anything  Over." 

Once  more  he  sat  at  the  head  of  the  Board  but  this 
time  he  did  not  have  to  dodge  any  Bouquets. 

He  looked  at  the  dignified   Gourmets,   as  they 


123 


124  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

turned  over  various  Specimens  of  Food  with  their 
Forks  and  seemed  to  be  wondering  if  they  were  good 
to  Eat. 

The  Topics  he  tried  to  project  turned  out  to  be 
Small  Town  Gossip  and  Last  Year's  Stuff. 

He  thought  the  Dancing  would  help  to  Ungrouch 
them  but  they  looked  over  his  Records  and  failed  to 
find  anything  Late. 

After  they  had  paired  off  stealthily  and  hunted  dim 
Corners  and  lapsed  into  low  Death-Chamber  Con 
versations,  the  genial  Provider  went  far  out  on  the 
Lawn  and  tried  to  figure  why  so  many  Young  Lives 
had  been  clouded. 

He  did  not  have  to  worry  about  getting  through 
Sunday. 

Most  of  them  did  not  come  up  for  Air  until  the 
Sun  had  crossed  the  Meridian,  although  the  Ser 
vants  were  busy  from  Eleven  O'Clock  on,  hustling 
Breakfast  Orders  up  the  stairway  to  the  Lady  Vere 
de  Veres  and  the  self-made  Young  Business  Men. 

A.  J.  had  read  in  Novels  about  the  Duchess  having 
her  Breakfast  in  Bed  but  this  was  the  first  time  he 
had  known  the  Plain  People  to  get  away  with  it. 

They  finally  slinked  into  the  Light  of  Day  and 
made  some  Inquiries  about  Dinner  and  then  strolled. 

He  was  so  Buffaloed  that  he  made  no  further  ef 
fort  to  Ring  In. 

It  dawned  on  him  that  they  were  interested  in 
Things  that  he  had  not  yet  heard  about.  He  did 
not  belong  in  the  Picture. 


THE  KITTENISH  SUPERANNS        125 

When  he  sneaked  away  to  his  Boudoir  at  the 
usual  hour,  he  felt  reasonably  sure  that  no  one  would 
miss  him. 

After  they  had  been  pried  from  the  Husks  and 
mobilized  on  Monday,  the  chastened  Host  was  on 
hand  to  be  sure  that  all  of  them  got  off  the  Place. 

They  seemed  to  remember  having  met  him  some 
where  and  spoke  to  him  pleasantly,  just  before 
Departing. 

At  the  Country  Club  he  met  an  ancient  Golfer 
and  related  his  Sufferings. 

"It  is  the  new  Order  of  Things,"  said  his  Pal. 
"The  Patriarchs  are  now  called  Boys,  and  the  gilded 
Nut,  calling  his  Mate  at  Eventide,  addresses  him  as 
Old  Top.  Don't  blame  the  Kids  because  they  are 
sniffy  and  condescending.  The  Swank  and  Side  and 
dreadful  Ongway  are  the  results  of  Home  Training. 
The  Poor  Things  have  been  spoon-fed  and  indulged 
until  they  have  come  to  regard  all  kindly  Attentions 
as  a  mere  Matter  of  Course.  In  a  few  years,  they 
will  have  Families  of  their  Own  and  about  that  time 
the  Great  Sorrows  will  come  into  their  Lives.  The 
Dollars  will  no  longer  grow  on  Bushes  and  these  same 
haughty  Tadpoles  will  be  grateful  to  any  one  who 
comes  along  and  splashes  them  with  Sunshine.  In 
the  meantime  you  had  better  Lay  Off  and  not  try  to 
get  fresh  with  your  Superiors." 

Moral:     Youth  is  the  time  for  Gravity. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  WAIST-BAND  THAT  WAS  TAUT 
UP  TO  THE  MOMENT  IT  GAVE  WAY 

ONCE  there  was  a  Family  consisting  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Stuff er  and  three  little  Staffers. 
Mrs.  Stuffer  had  belonged  to  the  Bolt 
Family  back  in  Fodderville,  where  she  put  on  Weight 
before  being  shipped  up  to  the  City. 

Her  Mother  was  a  Gullep,  and  Lineal  Descendant 
of  a  New  England  Pilgrim  named  Grubb. 

Mr.  Stuffer  also  was  well  connected,  never  fear. 

His  Mother  had  been  one  of  the  Gobbels  and  his 
Grandsire  on  the  other  Branch  of  the  Tree  was  often 
referred  to,  for  he  was  none  other  than  Phillip  Gor- 
mann-Deizer,  with  a  Colonial  Home  near  the  Gorge 
at  Eatonville. 

Their  Folks,  as  far  back  as  Records  carried,  had 
regarded  America  as  the  Land  of  Plenty  and  Then 
Some. 

Also  one  of  the  Traditions  coming  from  the  grand 
old  Pioneer  Stock  seemed  to  be  that  the  Main  Tract 
of  the  Alimentary  System  is  the  Home  of  the  Soul. 

The  Stuffers  could  say  truly  that  not  one  of  their 
previous  Relatives  ever  permitted  a  Guest  to  go 
away  Hungry. 

Sometimes  he  was  taking  Bi-Carb  when  he  de- 
126 


THE  TAUT  WAIST-BAND  127 

parted,  but,  Thank  Edna,  he  never  was  craving 
Nourishment. 

So  the  Family  Honour  stood  safe  and  intact. 

Back  in  the  Country,  where  the  Stuffers  received 
their  early  Schooling  as  two-handed  Scoopers,  no 
Man  could  hold  up  his  Head  unless  he  was  a  bounti 
ful  Provider,  and  no  Woman  was  respected  unless 
she  had  Apple  Butter  and  two  kinds  of  Pie  on  the 
Table. 

Those  were  the  Blissful  Days  when  the  Deacon 
with  the  Throat- Warmers  would  close  his  Eyes  and 
ask  that  this  Food  be  Blessed  and  Sanctified  to  our 
Uses. 

And  take  it  from  Hortense,  when  the  Deacon  made 
that  reasonable  Bequest,  there  was  something  piled 
in  front  of  him  waiting  to  be  Sanctified. 

No  one  ever  heard  of  Luxuries  during  that  oleagi 
nous  Period. 

Anything  that  could  be  Et  was  a  Necessity. 

The  family  that  wanted  a  Sunday  Dinner  away 
back  Yonder  did  not  have  to  hock  the  Morris  Chairs. 

The  Barn  Lot  was  swarming  with  Springers;  the 
Garden  had  many  rows  of  Sass;  Berries  could  be  had 
for  the  Picking. 

Anything  you  might  think  of  was  Ten  Cents. 

For  one  measly  Dime,  the  genial  Grocer  would  let 
you  have  a  Pound  of  Butter  or  a  Dozen  Eggs  or  a 
Peck  of  Murphys  or  a  hunk  of  Bacon  or  an  armful  of 
Roasting  Ears. 

Beans  were  about  as  costly  as  Gravel. 


128  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Off  in  the  Pantry,  the  solid  loaves  of  Salt-Rising 
Bread  were  stacked,  careless-like,  the  same  as  Cord- 
Wood. 

The  Humble  Toiler  who  stowed  away  14  to  16 
Spare-Ribs  smothered  with  Kraut,  four  or  five  help 
ings  of  Fresh  Vegetables,  a  few  light  Biscuits  inlaid 
with  golden  Butter,  and  possibly  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
of  Noodles,  would  trick  out  his  Modest  Snack  with 
Spiced  Peaches,  frosty  Doughnuts,  and  a  little  quart 
Bowl  of  preserved  Cherries,  to  say  nothing  of  Coffee 
Curdled  with  heavy  Cream,  and  never  suspect  that 
he  was  living  somewhat  Snooky. 

He  was  simply  getting  regular  every-day  Chow  of 
the  Farm-Hand  variety. 

It  was  on  Sunday,  when  the  Minister  and  his  Wife 
or  Cousin  Elam's  Family  came  over,  that  Mother 
extended  herself  and  showed  Class. 

The  Family  never  had  Flowers  on  the  Table, 
because  the  Space  was  taken  up  with  Jams  and 
Jells. 

At  that  time,  Dinner  did  not  open  with  Canape 
Scabouche  followed  by  Potage  a  la  Bohonque. 

It  opened  with  a  Breast  and  a  Second  Joint  and  a 
couple  of  Drumsticks  and  much  Gravy,  with  here 
and  there  a  Giblet,  and  enough  Mashed  Potatoes  to 
plaster  a  Small  Room,  and  a  Million  Green  Peas  that 
never  had  been  to  Market,  and  an  awful  mix-up  of 
String  Beans,  while  the  Odd  Corners  were  chinked  in 
with  Cottage  Cheese  and  Pickled  Watermelon  Rind 
1  and  Sweet  Peppers. 


THE  TAUT  WAIST-BAND  129 

Butter  was  not  rolled  into  Marbles  during  the 
Seventies. 

Well,  we  should  say  Not ! 

It  was  lifted  in  half-pound  Gobs,  and  those  who 
smeared  it  never  felt  Improvident. 

What  is  now  called  Service  consisted  of  cleaning 
up  the  Trough  and  going  back  for  another  Load. 

The  Conversation  was  wholly  made  up  of : 

(1)  Urgent  Appeals  for  every  one  to  Pack  in  a 
little  bit  more; 

(2)  Weak  Protests  from  the  Packees ; 

(3)  Contrite  Apologies  from  the  Cook  as  to  the 
Quality  and  Amount  of  Eatables  in  sight; 

(4)  Stereotyped  Assurances  to  perturbed  Hostess 
that  everything  was  Swell,  Elegant,  and  Hunky. 

If  the  Fig  Cake  was  a  Triumph  and  the  Jelly  Cake 
held  its  Shape  but  the  Hickory-Nut  Cake  went  Blah, 
that  called  for  a  lot  of  Explaining. 

There  was  a  Time  when  every  Woman  thought 
that  a  soggy  Cake  was  a  Reflection  on  her  Character. 
Then,  if  the  Visitors  moved  slowly  from  the  Din 
ing  Room  with  their  Eyes  protruding  slightly,  the 
Meal  was  voted  a  Success. 

Not  every  Parlour  sported  an  upright  Piano,  and  the 
Citizen  who  guided  a  team  of  Bays  from  the  front 
Pad  of  a  two-seated  Carriage  was  some  Rajah,  but 
the  humblest  Family  waded  knee-deep  in  Vittles. 

When  Winter  came  on,  each  Cellar  in  the  Town 
ship  was  loaded  to  the  Guards  with  Turnips,  Pun- 
kins,  Bell-Flo wer  Apples,  Pop-Corn,  Vinegar,  Wai- 


130  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

nuts,  Cabbage,  Potatoes,  Lye  Hominy,  Side-Meat, 
Canned  Stuff,  Hard  Cider,  Sorghum  Molasses,  Lard, 
Honey  in  the  Comb,  Rutabagas,  Fruit-Jars  in  Pla 
toons,  Jelly-Glasses  in  Brigades,  Sage,  Carrots,  Navy 
Beans,  Corn  Meal,  Buckwheat  Flour,  Onions,  and 
other  Medicinal  Herbs,  with  possibly  a  few  chilled 
Geese  and  Rabbits  for  immediate  Consumption. 

A  barbed-wire  Entanglement  could  have  been 
strung  around  any  Domicile  in  the  Autumn,  and  the 
imprisoned  Family  would  have  come  out  on  May 
1st  wearing  Double  Chins. 

After  the  Stuffers  landed  in  Town  and  had  to  use 
pleading  Language  to  get  a  couple  of  fibrous  Chops, 
they  would  become  sentimental  over  Memories  of 
Hog-Killing. 

Oh,  Elmer! 

The  Steaming  Kettles  of  Water  and  the  sound  of 
scraping  Knives. 

Pallid  Carcasses  suspended  in  the  frosty  Air  and 
the  gleeful  Eviscerators  singing  "Molly  Darling"  as 
they  Rummaged. 

If  a  close-figuring  Landlady,  who  tries  to  set  a 
Table  for  Seven  Per,  could  have  seen  the  Cans  of 
Lard,  the  Platters  of  Tenderloin,  the  Hams  waiting 
to  be  Cured,  and  the  Sausage  Meat  ready  to  glide 
into  the  Links,  she  would  have  declared  it  was  all  a 
Mirage. 

It  is  hard  for  some  People  to  realize,  along  in  this 
Stretch  of  Tribulation,  that  not  long  ago,  out  where 
Things  are  Grown,  everyone  who  sat  down  to  a  Re- 


§> 


131 


132  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

past  was  urged  to  make  a  Grand  Drive  and  go  as  far 
as  he  liked. 

The  mere  Thought  of  any  one  going  light  on  new- 
laid  Eggs,  or  laying  off  on  Butter,  or  messing  around 
with  Bran,  Excelsior,  Sawdust,  Husks,  Chop-Feed, 
and  other  Substitutes  for  Something  to  Eat  would 
have  been  too  Silly  for  Utterance. 

The  Practice  of  Economy  was  well-nigh  Universal, 
but  it  did  not  involve  playing  a  Joke  on  the 
(Esophagus. 

The  Woman  of  the  House  was  Thrifty,  for  she  fed 
her  Cook-Stove  a  Splinter  at  a  Time. 

When  Pa's  red  Unmentionables  with  the  Glass 
Buttons  became  too  Intimate  and  Itchy,  they  were 
chopped  down  for  Ulysses  or  Grover. 

Patches  were  made  into  Quilts  and  Rags  worked 
over  into  Carpets. 

A  Peach-Basket,  treated  with  a  Nickel's  Worth  of 
Gold  Paint  and  decked  out  with  Bows  of  Ribbon, 
became  a  Hanging  Basket  for  the  Pet  Geranium. 

All  the  spare  Coppers  went  into  the  little  Tin  Bank. 

Only  a  favoured  Few  were  permitted  to  walk  on 
the  Brussels  Carpet. 

Any  good  Citizen  of  Jasper  Township  would  have 
assured  you  that  Frugality  was  his  Middle  Name. 

But  Frugality  did  not  mean  getting  up  from  the 
Table  unsatiated. 

For  any  one  to  back  away  before  he  felt  himself 
Distended  would  have  been  regarded  as  Evidence  of 
a  cowardly  Nature. 


THE  TAUT  WAIST-BAND  133 

As  soon  as  a  Member  of  the  Family  began  to  fly  at 
the  Menu  with  a  lack  of  wolfish  Enthusiasm,  he  was 
subject  to  treatment  as  an  Invalid. 

The  real  Local  Gazimbat  was  the  Lad  who  held  the 
Flapjack  Record  and  was  ready  to  meet  all  Comers 
during  the  Sweet-Corn  Season. 

A  never-failing  Appetite  for  anything  that  could  be 
carried  in  and  planked  on  the  Table  was  classed  as 
one  of  the  Christian  Virtues. 

The  Owner  was  held  in  Regard  as  one  who  had 
acquired  Moral  Grandeur  and  lifted  himself  above 
the  Weaklings. 

He  went  around  blowing  that  he  could  Eat  Any 
thing,  and  all  the  Light  Feeders  slunk  into  the  Back 
ground  when  he  lifted  his  Bazoo. 

Now  that  you  have  a  Steer  on  the  Pre-Natal  In 
fluences  and  Environment  of  the  Stuffer  Family,  can 
you  see  the  Bunch  dropped  down  in  a  Residence 
Thoroughfare  of  a  congested  Metropolis,  three  miles 
from  a  Cow  and  six  miles  from  a  Hen  that  could  be 
relied  upon  to  come  across  every  Day? 

Although  badly  separated  from  the  Base  of 
Supplies,  they  were  still  true  to  the  honoured  Customs 
of  the  Grubbs  and  the  Gobbels  and  the  Gulleps. 

Mrs.  Stuffer  often  said  that  she  would  rather  cut 
off  her  Right  Hand  than  have  an  Acquaintance  drop 
in  and  find  one  Section  of  the  Dining-Room  Table 
unoccupied  by  tempting  Viands. 

She  remarked  time  and  again  that,  Come  what 
Might,  she  never  would  Stint  her  Loved  Ones  or  deny 


134  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

them  such  simple  Essentials  as  Fresh  Eggs,  Sure- 
Enough  Butter,  Steak  cut  thick,  Leg  of  Lamb,  and 
submerged  Short-Cake. 

And  there  were  a  Hundred  Thousand  More  like 
her. 

If  one  is  accustomed  to  the  Best — and  no  real 
Daughter  of  a  generous  Mother  ever  compromised  on 
Seconds  or  Culls — one  must  not  Pike  when  telephon 
ing  the  Orders. 

This  elaborate  Overture  will  give  you  a  Rough  Idea 
of  what  Mr.  Stuff er  was  up  against. 

He  came  to  the  City  on  a  Guarantee. 

His  Salary  looked  like  the  Income  of  J.  P.  Morgan 
until  he  began  to  check  up  the  Outgo. 

Back  in  Fodderville,  a  neat  frame  Dwelling  with  a 
scroll-saw  Veranda,  a  bed  of  Peonies,  and  Exposure 
on  four  Sides  would  set  you  back  about  $15  per  Moon. 

Up  in  the  City,  you  couldn't  get  a  Hat-Rack  for 
any  such  Money. 

It  seemed  to  the  Stuffers  that  everything  in  Town 
was  sold  by  the  Minute  or  the  Ounce. 

It  was  a  grievous  Shock  to  the  Missus  when  they 
began  to  weigh  the  Vegetables  on  her. 

She  had  got  used  to  having  them  thrown  at  her 
with  a  Shovel. 

The  Neighbours  no  longer  brought  in  Produce  at 
Special  inside  Prices — Eggs  figured  by  the  wear  and 
tear  on  the  Fowl  and  no  Overhead  Charge  on  Honey 
except  the  Time  put  in  by  the  Bees. 

The  Stuffers  suddenly  discovered  that  when  you 


THE  TAUT  WAIST-BAND  135 

go  out  to  spend  a  Dollar  in  the  City,  you  don't  have 
to  take  a  Wheelbarrow  along. 

But  Mr.  Stuffer  and  Mrs.  Stuffer  and  each  of  the 
miniature  Stuffers  had  it  firmly  fixed  in  the  Coke 
that  the  Minute  you  begin  letting  down  on  That  to 
which  you  have  been  Accustomed  you  lose  Self- 
Respect  and  indirectly  confess  to  being  in  Straitened 
Circumstances. 

It  was  all  right  for  those  living  in  Huts  and  Hovels 
to  cheapen  the  Standards  of  Living,  but  the  Stuffers 
could  not  endure  the  Thought  of  giving  up  any  of  the 
old  Stand-by  Dishes. 

Some  Persons  of  a  Poetical  Turn  mark  the  chang 
ing  Seasons  by  the  Trailing  Arbutus,  which  precedes 
the  bold  Iris;  then  old-fashioned  Roses,  followed  by  a 
riotous  show  of  Dahlias ;  Autumn  Leaves  tinged  Red 
and  Yellow,  harbingers  of  snowy  Fields  and  icy 
Boughs. 

Every  Sign  of  the  Zodiac  meant  a  new  Item  in  the 
Bill  of  Fare  for  the  practical  Stuffers. 

With  the  first  warm  days  of  Spring,  did  they  go 
looking  for  Wood- Violets? 

Not  one  Look. 

They  began  to  sit  up  and  demand  Green  Onions, 
Asparagus,  Head  Lettuce,  and  Strawberries. 

June  is  the  Month  of  Roses.  Also  of  Fried  Chicken 
and  a  pleasant  gateway  to  Corn  on  the  Cob. 

Autumn  Days  need  not  be  Melancholy  if  one  is 
surrounded  by  Turkey  and  Mincemeat. 

Even  Winter  has  a  Charm  of  its  own,  if  Sausage 


136  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

and  Buckwheat  Cakes  are  ever  smiling  in  the  Back 
ground. 

When  Prices  began  to  Sizz-Boom-Ah,  the  old  Pay 
Envelope  failed  to  stand  up  under  the  Strain,  but  can 
you  expect  one  reared  on  the  Fat  of  the  Land  to 
accept  Macaroni  as  a  Compromise? 

The  Producer  would  let  out  a  Howl  every  time  the 
Meat  Bill  came  in,  but  he  would  have  howled  in  a 
higher  Key  if  the  Good  Woman  had  failed  to  throw 
him  his  Roast  Beef  and  Mutton  Chops. 

He  wielded  a  very  consistent  Knife  and  Fork  and 
his  daily  Demand  was  for  something  that  Sticks  to 
the  Ribs. 

Of  course,  both  of  them  saw  the  Article  in  the 
Paper,  entitled  "How  to  feed  a  Family  of  Five  on  80 
Cents  a  Day." 

Once,  just  after  the  1st  of  the  Month,  while  Mr. 
Stuffer  was  still  Bleeding,  his  Companion  tried  out  a 
Sample  Menu  recommended  by  Hazel  McGinnis 
Updyke,  a  famous  Tipster  weighing  between  80  and 
90  Pounds. 

He  stirred  the  watery  Soup  as  if  moved  by  a  dull 
Curiosity  as  to  the  grains  of  Barley  hiding  at  the 
Bottom,  and  then  he  gave  Friend  Wife  a  Look — but, 
Ooey ,  such  a  Look ! 

It  seemed  to  say,  "And  this  is  the  Woman 
who  promised  to  Love,  Honour,  and  be  of  some 
Help!" 

Then  came  Rice  Croquettes,  one  of  the  most  start 
ling  Specimens  of  Near-Food  ever  touted  by  a  Lady 


THE  TAUT  WAIST-BAND  137 

writing  Syndicate  Come-Ons  and  boarding  at  an 
Italian  Table  d'Hote. 

You  eat  it,  but  after  you  get  through  you  are  not 
sure  that  anything  has  Happened. 

After  which,  Bread  Pudding,  said  to  have  broken 
up  more  Homes  than  High  White  Shoes. 

As  Mr.  Stuffer  left  the  House,  his  well-meaning 
Partner  felt  in  her  Heart  of  Hearts  that  he  was  going 
out  to  a  Restaurant  to  get  some  Ham  and  Eggs. 

She  resolved  that  never  again  would  she  ask  him 
to  be  Untrue  to  his  Nobler  Self. 

So,  at  the  next  Meal,  she  jollied  him  up  with  Lamb 
Steak  and  Kidneys,  Mushrooms  in  Cream,  Succotash, 
Waffles  and  Maple  Syrup,  Endive  Salad  and  Sharp 
Cheese,  with  a  Finale  of  Blueberry  Pie  d  la  Mode. 

Experts  tell  us  that  Blueberry  Pie,  showing  its  bold 
Colour  between  the  slopes  of  Vanilla  Ice  Cream,  is 
practically  the  Last  Word  with  those  who  want 
something  to  hit  the  Spot. 

It  is  the  Piece  de  Resistance,  the  Denouement,  the 
Dramatic  Climax,  the  Grand  Transformation,  Little 
Eva  ascending  to  Paradise. 

Nothing  comes  after  it  except  the  Pepsin  Tablet 
and  the  Hot-Water  Bag. 

Mrs.  Stuffer  watched  her  Husband  as  he  lighted 
his  Sublima. 

He  had  a  Sleepy  Look,  which  is  always  a  Good 
Sign. 

Then  he  Groaned,  and  she  knew  that  she  had  won 
back  his  Love. 


138 


THE  TAUT  WAIST-BAND  139 

Any  time  you  get  them  to  Groaning,  you  are  a 
Jewel  of  a  Housekeeper. 

Having  set  out  to  defy  the  Increased  Cost  and  in 
dulge  themselves  within  Reason,  the  little  Family 
soon  found  itself  riding  a  troublous  Sea  with  the 
Breakers  just  ahead.  Man's  Chief  Enemies,  they 
had  been  told  long  ago,  are  Pride,  Lust,  Avarice,  etc. 

Now  they  learned  Different.  They  came  to  know 
that  the  two  principal  Destroyers  of  Happiness  are 
the  Middleman  and  the  Cold-Storage  Warehouse. 

Hemmed  in  by  extortionate  Retailers,  Food 
Pirates,  and  Commission  Sharks,  they  stood  Resolute 
and  vowed  they  would  never  Surrender. 

As  they  were  riding  over  the  Hills  to  the  Poor- 
House,  Mr.  Stuffer  made  the  dismal  Observation 
that  it  was  a  Blue  Finish  for  a  Life  of  Honest  En 
deavour. 

"That  may  be  true,"  said  Mrs.  Stuffer,  "but  I 
have  this  Satisfaction,"  as  she  lifted  her  Head 
proudly:  "I  set  a  scrumptious  Table  to  the  very 
last." 

Moral:     Cling  to  your  Ideals,  such  as  they  are. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  SUPERGUY  AND  THE  DOUBLE 
HARNESS 

ONCE  there  was  a  Man  who  could  juggle  such 
Words  as  "Vouchsafe"  and  "Eleemosy 
nary." 

Often  he  complained  that  the  Cold  Water  in  the 
Shower  was  not  Cold  enough. 

At  Bridge  he  never  pulled  a  Boner. 

On  the  hottest  Days,  his  Collar  never  mushed. 

He  could  wear  a  Cap  without  mussing  his  Hair. 

In  all  his  years  of  going  about,  he  never  failed  on  a 
Welsh  Rabbit,  got  too  much  Oil  in  the  Salad  Dressing, 
picked  up  the  Wrong  Fork,  or  put  a  Mark  on  the 
Table  Cloth. 

No  one  could  stump  him  by  asking  for  inside  Dope 
on  a  Late  Work  by  some  Icelandic  Novelist.  He 
was  a  Bear  on  the  whole  Line  of  Tea-Gurgle. 

He  knew  more  about  the  Modern  Dutch  Painters 
than  they  knew  about  themselves. 

Once  every  Two  Years  he  would  find  a  Play  that 
he  could  sit  through. 

It  was  his  Boast  that  he  never  dubbed  a  Mashie 
Shot,  because  he  made  his  Execution  deliberate,  kept 
the  Arms  well  in  and  looked  a  Hole  in  the  Ground 
until  the  little  old  Pill  was  safely  on  the  Carpet. 

140 


141 


142  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Of  course  he  had  travelled  Everywhere,  preferring 
Rough  Weather  at  Sea,  and  never  missing  a  Meal. 

He  card-indexed  his  Cravats  and  had  a  Razor  for 
each  Day  in  the  Week. 

He  ate  his  Eggs  from  the  Shell  and  his  Cigarettes 
had  to  be  especially  blended  for  him,  with  a  secret 
Percentage  of  unusual  Perique. 

Oh  yes !     And  he  never  missed  a  Train ! 

Neither  did  he  split  an  Infinitive. 

When  conversing,  he  did  not  gum  up  the  minor 
Syllables  and  in  the  matter  of  Correct  Pronunciation, 
he  batted  1,000. 

Finally  he  got  Married  without  showing  a  Tremor 
and  the  Wife  must  have  been  a  game  little  Party. 
She  stood  him  for  nearly  Three  Months. 

Moral:  Don't  be  too  Efficient,  if  you  expect  to  find 
a  Co-Efficient. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  LINGERING  THIRST  AND  THE 
BOUNDLESS  SAHARA 

ON  A  certain  Afternoon  in  the  year  1942  the 
main  Frolic-Chamber  of  the  Lucifer  Club 
was  in  a  state  of  Semi-Repose. 

Away  back  yonder,  before  an  unprepared  World 
was  swatted  simultaneously  by  Social  Unrest  and 
Nation- Wide  Prohibition,  this  Exclusive  Social  Or 
ganization  had  enjoyed  a  fruity  Reputation  as  a 
Bun-Factory. 

One  peek  at  the  Refined  Bunch  in  the  Ex-Cafe  on 
the  aforesaid  Afternoon  of  1942  told  the  story  of  a 
World  reclaimed. 

Our  Best  People  had  long  since  been  weaned  from 
the  baneful  Booze. 

The  Home  of  the  Revels  had  been  done  over  into 
a  Rest  Room  for  White  Rabbits. 

Even  as  a  Slave-Block  was  still  shown  in  New 
Orleans  and  a  Whipping-Post  could  be  seen  in  a 
Delaware  Museum,  so  the  Lucifer  Club  retained 
some  of  the  Props  and  Paraphernalia  of  the  Wet 
Age. 

Curdling  Yarns  were  still  told  of  the  old  Profligate 
Times  when  the  dusty  Steins,  now  ranged  on  the 
High  Shelf  as  Curios,  had  surged  and  frothed  with  a 

143 


144  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Hellish  Compound  containing  as  high  as  4  per  cent, 
of  the  Essence  of  Tra-la-la. 

The  Dents  in  the  Furniture,  so  the  Legends  ran, 
had  been  made  by  Cannikins,  brought  down  in 
Unison  to  emphasize  the  Fact  that  the  Gang  was 
present  up  to  the  full  Enrollment  and  that  all  other 
Facts  were  non-essential. 

An  orderly  group  of  protected  and  purified  Male 
Persons  sat  at  one  of  the  Scarred  Tables,  gazing  with 
modified  Enthusiasm  at  a  pitcher  of  Raspberry 
Shrub  and  a  plate  of  Gluten  Biscuit. 

They  were  Ex-Collegians  but  they  did  not  Vocal 
ize.  It  is  a  Biological  Truth  that  Close  Harmony 
can  not  be  extracted  from  Raspberry  Shrub. 

In  fact,  the  Members  were  in  a  dour  and  resentful 
Mood. 

A  Servant  had  just  brought  in  word  that  the  House 
Committee  forbade  the  use  of  Carbonated  Aqua 
with  Fruit  Juices. 

The  Members  knew  that  Extract  of  Raspberry 
has  practically  no  Recoil  whatsoever  unless  spurred 
to  action  by  Sparkling  Waters. 

They  liked  to  see  the  Bubbles  jump  and  to  feel 
the  tickle  of  the  Gas  Beads  on  the  way  down. 

Hence  the  Holler. 

In  the  company  was  a  highly  antiseptic  young 
Professor  who  specialized  on  Food  Values  when  his 
Health  permitted. 

He  explained  that  all  fizzy  Beverages  were  being 
put  into  the  Nixey  Column  because  Research  had 


THE  LINGERING  THIRST  145 

shown  that  a  Guinea  Pig  spreeing  for  days  at  a 
time  on  Carbonic  Acid  Gas  became  listless,  inat 
tentive  and  of  practically  no  value  to  Society,  while 
one  moistened  with  the  glorious  Fluid  that  comes 
from  every  Faucet  continues  to  measure  up  to  the 
full  Efficiency  of  a  normal  Guinea  Pig. 

Also,  the  Savings  Banks  in  States  which  had 
abolished  the  Aerated  Waters  showed  a  marked  In 
crease  in  the  Total  of  Deposits. 

Of  course  that  left  the  Kickers  without  a  Leg  to 
stand  on,  although  more  than  a  few  felt  that  the 
Guinea  Pig  should  have  kept  out  of  it. 

When  Members  cease  to  kick  on  the  House  Com 
mittee,  a  Club  is  no  longer  a  Club. 

"We  thought  the  Limit  had  been  negotiated  when 
they  stopped  us  from  using  Ice,"  said  one  of  the 
Mutineers.  "I  admit  that  the  Tummy  should  not 
be  chilled  and  I  am  not  here  as  a  spokesman  for  any 
thing  that  foams  in  the  Tumbler,  but  there  is  a  strain 
of  Deviltry  in  our  Family  and  I  shall  use  Ice  and 
Seltzer  in  my  own  Apartment,  come  what  may." 

"Would  you  continue  to  freeze  and  inflate  your 
poor  Insides  even  after  a  Majority  of  your  Fellow 
Citizens  had  issued  Orders  to  the  Contrary?"  de 
manded  the  Professor.  "Are  you  setting  yourself 
up  against  the  Health  Bulletins?" 

The  Bold  One  began  to  back-pedal. 

"I  can  not  help  but  feel,"  he  rejoined,  lamely, 
"that  too  many  Authorities  are  coming  between  me 
and  my  Duodenum." 


146  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  Victim  of  the  Club  Soda  Habit  was  saved 
from  further  Humiliation  by  the  stalking  entrance 
into  the  Room  of  a  Veteran  Member  known  as  "The 
Colonel" 

Although  somewhat  bleached  by  the  kindly  as 
sistance  of  the  18th  Amendment,  the  Colonel  was  not 
of  the  standardized  Pattern  which  enabled  the  other 
Members  to  harmonize  so  unobtrusively  with  the 
Neutral  Tint  of  the  Draperies.  He  looked  like  a 
Gink  who  was  waiting  for  someone  to  touch  the 
Bell. 

The  Colonel  had  a  Past  which  threw  him  into  the 
Doubtful  List,  but  the  Fact  which  put  a  Dark  Ring 
around  his  Local  Standing  was  this:  He  still  gloried 
in  his  previous  Shame. 

He  could  remember  when  every  Vegetarian  Cafe 
teria  had  been  a  Buffet. 

He  had  played  Poker  for  Real  Money.  Also  Golf 
on  Sunday. 

He  had  smoked  Cigarettes.  He  had  applauded 
when  vicious  Pugs  bammed  each  other  in  a  padded 
Ring. 

He  had  seen  the  Ponies  come  scooting  into  the 
Home  Chute,  and  then  he  had  hurried  in  to  mace 
his  Bit  from  Ikey. 

He  had  stayed  up  until  1  A.  M.  feeding  on  the 
mixed  Harmonies  of  the  Cabaret. 

He  had  shimmied  in  Hotels  and  Restaurants,  on 
Ocean  Piers  and  at  Dancing  Clubs,  long  since  snuffed 
out  by  the  Police.  He  had  qualified  as  a  Sport  when 


THE  LINGERING  THIRST  147 

the  Title  could  not  be  earned  on  the  Croquet 
Grounds. 

In  other  words  he  was  a  Reprobate  of  the  Old 
School. 

No  wonder  that  these  Sheltered  Ones,  who  had 
learned  to  obey  the  Curfew  and  never  had  felt  the 
jingle  of  a  Bronx,  looked  upon  the  Hold-Over  with  a 
degree  of  Disfavour,  secretly  tinged  with  Admira 
tion  for  one  who  had  hit  all  of  the  High  Spots  before 
the  Universe  was  planed  down  to  a  Dead  Level  of 
Decorum  and  Sobriety. 

In  the  unwritten  Records  of  the  Club  it  appeared 
that  somewhat  previous  to  1920  the  Colonel  had 
made  it  a  sinful  Practice  to  pull  a  Birthday  Dinner 
every  year. 

This  jovial  Function,  which  passed  out  automat 
ically  when  the  Club  climbed  on  the  Wagon,  was 
still  treasured  in  Recollection  by  a  few  Survivors  as 
SOME  Party. 

As  nearly  as  could  be  gleaned  from  wistful  Remi 
niscence  it  had  been  an  exciting  Combination  of  the 
Galveston  Flood  and  a  Busy  Day  in  the  Argonne 
Forest. 

But  that  was  before  the  Frontier  of  Civilization 
began  to  move  eastward  from  the  Missouri  River. 

Slowly  but  surely  the  White  Jacket  gave  way  to 
the  triumphal  advance  of  the  White  Necktie. 

At  last  the  Light  of  Kansas  and  Oklahoma  pene 
trated  even  the  darkest  Recesses  of  Fifth  Avenue. 

And  now  the  Lucifer  Club  had  its  Members  wear- 


148 


THE  LINGERING  THIRST  149 

ing  Snaffles  and  Interference  Pads.  The  Mixing- 
Spoon  had  been  beaten  into  a  Shoe-Horn.  Azaleas 
were  blooming  in  the  silver  Wine-Buckets. 

And  the  Colonel's  Birthday  Parties  had  gone  the 
way  of  the  Jigger  and  the  Jazz  Band. 

To  show  you  how  one  hardened  to  Iniquity  will 
cling  to  Vices,  in  spite  of  the  Anti-Saloon  League,  it 
was  whispered  about  the  Club  that  the  Colonel  still 
protected  in  his  Back- Yard  a  Patch  of  the  Pro 
scribed  Mint. 

Also,  it  was  darkly  rumoured  that  in  a  secret  Cavern 
somewhere  on  the  Premises  he  treasured  an  Earthen 
ware  Vessel  containing  the  Contraband  Fluid  known 
as  Bourbon. 

By  way  of  defying  a  Law  that  he  disapproved,  he 
celebrated  his  Birthday  Anniversary  by  pulling  down 
the  Blinds,  putting  on  Gum  Shoes  and  a  Mask  and 
mixing  a  deadly  Swig  known  as  a  Julep. 

It  was  said  that  he  aggravated  this  Illegal  Per 
formance  by  drinking  to  the  Confusion  of  Small- 
Town  Legislators  who  wear  Celluloid  Collars. 

This  extended  Prelude  is  meant  to  give  the  Reader 
a  correct  Line  on  the  Colonel  as  a  Tough  Nut  in 
General. 

In  1917  he  had  been  a  Bon  Vivant,  which  is  French 
for  a  Regular  Little  Fellow. 

In  1942  he  was  merely  a  Relic  of  that  dissolute 
Era  which  terminated  when  W.  J.  B.  got  after  John 
Barleycorn  and  talked  him  to  Death. 

No  wonder  that  the  Juniors  of  the  Lucifer  Club, 


150  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

who  had  been  kept  away  from  Mince  Pie  speeded 
up  with  Real  Stuff,  failed  to  find  themselves  on  a 
friendly  Footing  with  this  Unregenerate. 

Merely  out  of  politeness  they  asked  him  to  cut  in 
on  the  diluted  Raspberry. 

He  raised  a  forbidding  Hand. 

"In  my  Youth  I  was  taught  to  respect  the  Supreme 
Court,"  he  said,  gazing  scornfully  at  the  so-called 
Refreshments,  "but  even  that  august  Tribunal  can 
not  convince  me  that  a  Drink  is  related  to  something 
which  Nature  intended  for  the  dyeing  of  Easter 
Eggs." 

"Surely  you  are  not  yearning,  even  after  two 
Decades,  for  a  Dram  of  that  which  destroys  both 
Body  and  Soul?"  demanded  the  Professor.  "It 
is  a  Medical  Fact  that  the  Appetite  for  Liquor  en 
dures  only  a  few  months  after  the  Victim  is  locked 
up  in  a  Dry  Community." 

The  Colonel  came  back  as  follows:  "I  am  not 
bothered  by  an  Appetite.  I  am  harassed  by  Mem 
ories.  All  of  you  have  read  in  your  Histories  of  the 
wicked  Times  when  every  Hostess  had  Mortimer 
bring  in  the  Dry  Martinis  just  before  Dinner  was 
served.  You  have  found  references,  in  forbidden 
Fiction,  to  Bottles  covered  with  Cobwebs;  to  the 
Uncle  of  the  Bride  holding  up  a  Beaker  of  some 
Rare  Vintage  and  proposing  the  Health  of  the  Happy 
Pair;  to  gay  Banquets  at  which  every  Speaker  be 
came  an  Inspired  Orator  after  9  p.  M.  All  these 
Suggestions  of  the  licentious  mid-Wilson  or  Pie- 


THE  LINGERING  THIRST  151 

Eyed  Period  arouse  in  you  only  a  Sense  of  Shame. 
You  are  trying  to  forget  that  your  immediate  An 
cestors  belonged  to  this  Club,  which  was  kept  going 
Year  after  Year  by  the  preponderance  of  Bar  Re 
ceipts.  You  came  upon  the  Scene  when  the  harshest 
Sound  that  greeted  your  Ears  was  the  squeezing  of  a 
Lemon.  In  your  fortunate  Environment  the  acme 
of  Naughtiness  is  to  speed  up  the  Car  while  going  to  a 
Tennis  Tournament.  With  me  it  is  different." 

"You  mean  that  you  cherish  fond  Remembrances 
of  the  Improprieties  of  Long  Ago?"  asked  one  of  the 
Younger  Members. 

"Life  had  certain  Attractions  for  me,  even  before 
they  cut  off  my  Allowance,"  replied  the  Colonel. 
"You  may  not  believe  it,  but  the  old  U.  S.  A.  was  a 
moderately  cheerful  Abode  even  when  dominated  by 
those  accustomed  to  touch  the  Harp  lightly.  I 
know  that  every  Person  who  dallied  with  the  Ac 
cursed  Stuff  is  now  branded  as  a  Miscreant  and  yet 
I  recall  many  useful  and  interesting  Citizens  who 
would  walk  around  a  Banana  Split  to  get  to  a  Rickey. 
Furthermore,  among  the  virtuous  Non-Drinkers  was 
an  alarming  Percentage  of  the  kind  that  no  one  would 
care  to  have  around  the  House  on  a  Rainy  Sunday. 
They  were  Nice  People  but  not  to  room  with.  And 
they  were  Ignorant.  They  classed  all  stimulating 
Mixtures  under  the  general  head  of  Rum.  Any 
Expert  will  tell  you  that  Rum  was  used  principally 
for  curing  a  Cold.  Their  Fanaticism  was  founded 
on  Misinformation.  They  believed  that  a  Drink 


152 


THE  LINGERING  THIRST  153 

was  something  that  induced  a  man  to  go  home  and 
hit  his  Wife  in  the  head  with  an  Axe.  They  did  not 
know,  never  having  been  invited  to  the  Right  Places, 
that  sometimes  a  Drink,  passing  to  its  Destination 
under  Salubrious  Conditions,  will  induce  a  Man  to 
buy  his  Wife  an  Electric  Phaeton.  They  were  not 
familiar  with  Bottled  Goods  which  could  be  used  as 
a  Social  Lubricant  and  Promoter  of  Conversation. 
Anything  in  a  Bottle  looked  to  them  like  a  Ticket 
to  the  Penitentiary.  The  Man  who  wasn't  strictly 
on  the  Rainwater  they  classed  with  Joe  Morgan,  the 
Village  Soak.  One  morning  we  woke  up  and  found 
that  51  per  cent,  of  the  Voters  had  absorbed  the 
happy  Idea  that  nobody  in  all  the  World  must  ever 
again  repeat  those  vile  words,  'Here's  looking  at  you.' 
Up  to  that  time  there  had  been  much  Suffering 
among  the  Poor.  Now  the  suffering  was  transferred 
to  the  Rich." 

"You  mean  that  the  Drinking  Classes  did  not  wish 
to  be  emancipated  from  Slavery?"  asked  an  in 
credulous  Listener. 

"Oh,  Lad!  Talk  about  Anguish!  The  Corner 
Saloon  curled  up  and  died  without  a  Struggle,  but 
the  Clubs  threw  many  a  Spasm  before  taking  the 
final  Count.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  Day  when 
the  Blow  fell.  I  breezed  into  this  Very  Room  and 
told  the  Boy  to  get  to  work  on  a  Tom  Collins.  You 
Fellows  never  saw  one  but  I  may  tell  you,  without 
giving  you  a  downward  Shove  on  the  Road  to  Ruin, 
that  it  came  very  tall  and  was  not  hard  to  encom- 


154  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

pass  on  a  Warm  Day.  The  Servant  told  me  to 
shoot  again.  He  said  he  could  fix  me  a  Collins  ex 
cept  for  the  one  Ingredient  which  made  it  a  Collins. 
I  started  to  Bark  and  was  shown  a  Pamphlet  with  an 
underlined  Statement  that  the  Jails  in  Kansas  were 
practically  empty.  Because  the  jail-attendance  in 
Kansas  was  falling  off,  I  had  to  make  a  dreadful 
choice  between  Slow  Death  and  Sarsaparilla.  While 
I  was  sitting  there,  trying  to  adjust  myself  to  the 
Horrors  of  the  New  Situation,  other  Members  ap 
peared  and  began  to  discuss  the  Outrage.  There 
was  a  customary  Round-Up  between  5  and  6  P.M. 
The  Regulars  would  drop  in  on  the  way  Home  and 
get  ready  to  meet  their  Wives  and  tell  how  hard  they 
had  been  working  all  day.  It  was  a  mournful 
Company,  the  day  we  left  the  waving  Trees  and 
singing  Birds  and  marched  out  into  the  Desert. 
Away  to  the  Horizon  was  a  dry  sweep  of  parched 
Desolation  and  something  told  us  that  no  matter 
how  long  we  kept  on  marching  we  would  never 
come  to  an  Oasis." 

The  Professor  had  followed  this  amazing  Con 
fession  with  an  Impatience  that  was  poorly  con 
cealed.  "You  were  better  off  without  your  Pick- 
me-ups,"  he  explained.  "Continued  Indulgence 
weakens  the  Will  and  deludes  the  Judgment.  You 
and  your  bibulous  Comrades  were  mistaken  in  as 
suming  that  you  were  cheered  and  refreshed  after 
the  second  or  third  Round.  It  was  all  Imagination." 

"Possibly,"  replied  the  Colonel.     "That  Imagina- 


THE  LINGERING  THIRST  155 

tion  Stuff  is  the  principal  Asset  of  Christian  Science. 
I  am  not  here  to  defend  any  Man  who  has  been 
legislated  beyond  the  Pale  of  Respectability.  I  am 
simply  telling  you  that  a  lot  of  Folks  who  had  been 
getting  by  as  Respectable  Members  of  Society  sud 
denly  found  themselves  dying  on  the  Vine.  Those 
who  refused  to  acquiesce  got  it  Good.  Take  the 
case  of  my  Aunt  Mattie.  She  was  a  wilful  Creature 
but  she  had  her  Good  Points.  The  Officers  found  a 
Bottle  of  Cooking  Sherry  in  her  Pantry.  They 
gave  her  Six  Months." 

"You  will  admit  that  the  World  is  better  be 
haved  since  the  dethronement  of  King  Alcohol." 
suggested  one  who  was  reeking  with  Raspberry. 

"I  will  admit  that  a  deep  Calm  prevails  over 
many  Spots  that  formerly  were  quite  animated," 
was  the  evasive  Reply.  "Unfortunately,  the  new 
Laws  have  eliminated  that  rugged  Character  known 
as  a  Moral  Hero.  In  the  bright  red  Days  of  my 
Youth,  a  good  Man  was  one  who  resisted  Tempta 
tion.  Now  that  all  Temptation  has  been  legally 
abolished,  no  Person  gets  any  Medals  for  being 
Virtuous.  He  can't  be  otherwise  unless  he  possesses 
Information  which  I  have  failed  to  obtain.  There 
was  a  Time  when  the  man  who  did  not  drink  Beer  or 
smoke  Cigarettes  or  play  Poker  or  look  at  Ball 
Games  on  Sunday  was  regarded  as  Snow-White. 
Now  that  Breweries,  Cigarettes,  Poker  Games, 
and  Sunday  Base-Ball  have  been  put  into  the  same 
category  as  Murder  and  Arson,  the  Individual  who 


156  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

keeps  away  from  Satanic  Influences  is  merely  a  Non- 
Criminal.  It  is  a  changed  Universe.  Golf  has 
never  been  the  same  since  the  19th  Hole  was  wiped 
out.  Formerly  players  were  sustained  through  a 
Hard  Match  by  a  Vision  of  that  which  made  the 
Alibi  sound  more  plausible  and  caused  every  Bogey 
Hole  to  look  like  Par.  When  you  rob  Victory  of  the 
Celebration  and  deprive  Defeat  of  soothing  Con 
solation,  you  have  put  a  good  Game  on  the  Fritz." 

Suddenly  the  Colonel  paused  and  looked  toward 
the  Doorway,  where  another  Member  of  the  hard 
ened  Type  that  was  doomed  to  Extinction  stood 
beckoning,  his  manner  Secretive. 

The  Colonel  walked  over. 

"Come  with  me,"  whispered  the  New-Comer. 
"I  know  of  a  Blind  Pig  where  we  can  get  some  Cof 
fee." 

Moral:  Do  unto  yourself  as  your  Neighbours  do 
unto  Themselves  and  look  Pleasant. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  HARD-UP  YEOMAN 

ONE  Day  a  serious-minded  Disturber  of  the 
Soil  named  Ebenezer,  living  out  where  the 
Prairie  Loam  is  very  Brunette  and  the  Cattle 
are  broad  across  the  Hips,  got  up  in  the  Morning  so 
borne  down  by  Business  Anxiety  that  all  he  could 
take  on  for  Breakfast  was  a  few  Eggs  and  a  couple 
of  Patty  Cakes  of  a  rare  kind  of  Sausage  containing 
Pork  and  several  Strata  of  Flapjacks  and  a  Tureen 
of  Coffee. 

The  Grief  that  seemed  crushing  him  to  Earth  had 
been  engendered  by  a  steady  Increase  in  Land 
Values. 

Like  every  other  nifty  Agriculturist,  he  had  a 
Chronic  Hankering  to  own  all  the  good  Property 
adjoining. 

There  was  one  Eighty  in  Particular  that  he 
coveted  until  he  couldn't  bear  the  Thought  of  some 
Neighbour  beating  him  to  it. 

For  several  Years  he  had  been  doing  a  little  gum 
shoe  Dickering  to  get  hold  of  that  dandy  little  Patch 
of  Corn  Land. 

Every  time  he  inquired  the  Price,  the  Owner 
boosted  the  Figure  a  mite,  and  then  told  our  Good 
Friend  that  he  could  either  take  it  or  leave  it  or  do  a 
157 


158 


THE  HARD-UP  YEOMAN  159 

Run  and  Jump  into  the  Crick,  it  didn't  make  no 
difference  which. 

One  of  the  bitter  Ironies  encountered  during  the 
Vaudeville  Tour  known  as  Mortal  Existence  is  that 
when  the  Articles  we  sell  go  up  like  a  Rocket  and 
Life  begins  to  look  like  a  Feather  Bed,  then  the  Com 
modities  we  wish  to  Purchase  likewise  get  into  a  Bull 
Market  and  go  sailing,  and  Joy  evaporates. 

No  matter  how  much  of  the  Crisp  a  Fellow 
handles,  he  feels  like  a  Lazarus  if  he  cannot  acquire 
all  of  the  desirable  Items  that  he  seems  to  think  he 
wants. 

That  is  why  Ebenezer  was  feeling  awful  Blue  when 
he  wound  up  his  little  hank  and  started  for  Town  to 
pick  out  some  new  Records  for  the  Talking  Machine. 

He  alighted  in  front  of  the  Bank,  and  there  he 
plumped  right  into  a  mess  of  Calamity.  Although 
he  tried  to  duck  into  the  Drug  Store,  the  Trouble- 
Maker  nailed  him. 

All  the  Overture  Stuff  about  the  Spring  Planting 
and  the  Health  of  the  Family  did  not  camouf  Eben 
ezer.  He  could  feel  a  Touch  coming. 

The  Person  accosting  him  was  of  a  Species  which 
had  multiplied  without  increasing  in  Popularity. 

In  other  Words,  this  Party  was  around  sticking  up 
People  in  the  name  of  a  large  Undertaking  for  the 
General  Good. 

He  was  there  with  a  line  of  glib  Cackle  about 
every  Citizen  having  a  real  proprietary  Interest  in 
his  own  Country. 


160  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

He  went  at  Ebenezer  hammer  and  tongs  and  told 
him  to  Come  Across  with  a  Handful. 

"I  can't  do  it,  Bill,"  said  Ebenezer,  with  a  quaver 
in  his  Voice.  "I  think  all  this  Work  ought  to  be 
done  by  the  Govamint,  but,  even  at  that,  I'd  dig  if 
I  wasn't  so  Poor  just  now.  You  don't  see  me  ro- 
mancin'  along  Main  Street  in  any  Twin  Six  that  costs 
Four  Thousand.  I  have  to  put  up  with  a  little 
Coffee  Grinder.  Never  in  all  my  born  Days  did  I 
ride  in  a  Private  Car,  the  same  as  them  Railway 
Presidents.  They're  the  Fellows  to  go  after.  Did 
I  ever  own  a  Plug  Hat?  Does  my  Woman  sport 
any  Diamonds?  Here  I  am,  strugglin'  along  an' 
just  makin'  both  Ends  meet,  an'  you  come  and  try 
to  slip  me  some  more  Tribulation.  Sometimes  I 
wonder  what  they  do  with  all  the  Taxes  I  pay  in. 
Now  I've  got  to  stand  in  front  of  a  Table  an'  answer 
a  lot  of  fool  Questions  about  my  Income.  It  al 
ways  seemed  to  me  that,  when  a  real  Producer  gets 
hold  of  some  Cash,  it's  His'n,  an'  nobody's  got  any 
Right  to  go  feelin'  into  his  Pockets  for  it.  Besides 
I've  had  more  than  seven  quarts  of  Trouble.  Many's 
the  Wallop  that's  been  handed  to  me  in  the  last  Year. 
Last  Season,  after  I  sold  my  Corn  for  a  Dollar  Ten, 
it  went  to  a  Dollar  Fifty  on  the  Board  of  Trade. 
You  can  figure  that  on  5,000  Bushels  I  certainly  lost 
a  pile  of  Money.  I've  felt  pinched  ever  since.  I 
understand,  of  course,  that  it's  all  right  for  them 
that  have  it  stacked  up  to  be  reckless  an'  throw  in  big 
Donations  an'  get  their  Names  in  the  Paper,  but  it 


THE  HARD-UP  YEOMAN  161 

does  strike  me  they  ought  to  lay  off  of  us  Grangers 
that  are  hard  pushed.  Why,  I  need  more  Land  right 
now,  but  I  can't  get  it  without  bein'  Gouged,  and 
I'm  Fussed.  You  must  know  that  my  Grocery 
Bills  are  bigger  than  they  used  to  be.  Honest,  Bill, 
I  don't  see  how  you  can  look  me  in  the  Eye  an'  tell 
me  it's  my  Duty  to  let  go  at  a  Time  like  this.  I 
think  you  Aristocrats  that  loll  around  in  the  Towns 
and  live  off  of  us  ought  to  put  up  all  the  Spondulix 
needed  just  at  this  time." 

The  Solicitor  was  slowed  up.  He  began  to  feel 
ashamed  of  himself  for  trying  to  take  the  Hot  Bis 
cuit  and  the  Spareribs  right  out  of  the  Mouths  of 
Ebenezer's  Offspring. 

He  went  back  to  the  Local  Committee  and  re 
ported  that  inasmuch  as  Eb  had  been  compelled  to 
order  Gasoline  at  the  advanced  Rate  and  Casings 
at  the  new  Price  for  Rubber,  and  had  been  stood  up 
so  hard  by  the  Chicago  Tailoring  Firm  which  special 
izes  on  Garments  for  College  Students,  and  had  been 
put  to  extra  Expense  because  the  McCormack  Rec 
ords  cost  quite  a  bit  of  Money,  and  was  trying  to  lay 
in  such  a  large  advance  supply  of  Nut  Coal  for  the 
Base-Burner,  probably  it  wasn't  fair  to  expect  him  to 
get  wrought  up  over  Public  Weal. 

He  reported  that  a  good  many  rapacious  Combina 
tions  had  swooped  down  on  Ebenezer  and  rassled 
his  Feelings  and  stripped  him  of  his  Assets. 

It  looked  as  if  Eb  would  have  to  be  marked  up  as 
a  Dead  Pigeon. 


162  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  Committee  considered  the  Case  carefully, 
because  there  were  several  Ebenezers  right  in  this 
same  Township. 

The  Members  of  the  cruel  Hold-Up  Gang  knew 
that  Ebenezer  was  sincere  in  his  tearful  Declarations. 

What  with  the  High  Cost  of  Necessary  Luxuries 
and  the  Contemptible  Methods  lately  adopted  by 
Tax  Ferrets  and  the  Prohibitive  Price  on  all  Land 
adjoining  him,  it  was  evident  that  this  particular 
specimen  of  Farmer  felt  that  he  was  being  perse 
cuted  beyond  Endurance. 

They  had  to  admit  that  he  was  right  about  the 
Private  Car  and  not  having  as  much  Jewellery  as 
those  mentioned  in  the  Sunday  Papers.  Also,  he 
never  frittered  away  any  time  at  Golf. 

One  Member  of  the  Committee,  having  no  Pity 
in  his  Heart,  then  suggested  that  Poverty  was  a 
Relative  Term. 

He  said  that  Ebenezer  was  a  well-meaning  Citizen 
and  there  was  just  one  Prescription  needed  to  make 
Eb  a  useful  Patriot  of  comprehensive  Vision,  and 
that  was  an  Inspection  Tour. 

He  called  attention  to  certain  biographical  Data. 

Ebenezer  had  started  out  in  Life  as  a  Farm  Hand. 

His  only  Assets  at  the  beginning  were  a  set  of 
willing  Muscles,  the  habit  of  Industry,  and  about  as 
much  technical  Knowledge  of  Agriculture  as  he 
could  absorb  from  his  Neighbours.  He  believed  him 
self  to  be  self-made. 

It  never  struck  him  that  the  Institutions  of  a  Free 


THE  HARD-UP  YEOMAN  163 

Country,  and  the  Privileges  sprouting  under  a  West 
ern  Sky,  and  the  virgin  richness  of  a  new  Soil,  and 
the  kindly  help  of  an  intelligent  Community  had 
cooperated  to  make  him  a  Present  of  240  Acres 
worth  $300  an  Acre. 

Someone  suggested  that  it  would  be  a  Grand 
Thought  if  Ebenezer  could  visit  some  of  the  other 
Geographical  Divisions  on  this  limited  Globe  and 
study  the  Daily  Life  and  Domestic  Affairs  of  other 
Men  who  had  started  with  Nothing  much  and  worked 
hard,  and  practised  Economy  and  persevered  in  their 
Efforts  to  set  aside  a  few  Rubles  for  a  Rainy  Day. 

So  the  Committee  pulled  off  a  very  bright  Stunt. 

It  learned  that  a  smart  Yank  had  perfected  an 
Airplane  of  incredible  Speed. 

It  could  do  a  Mile  in  practically  Nothing,  flat. 

Motor-Cars  had  minimized  all  Mileage,  but  the 
new  flying  Contraption  simply  eliminated  Distance. 

The  Committee  sent  for  a  Machine  that  had  a 
separate  Perch  for  a  Passenger  and  invited  Ebenezer 
to  take  a  free  Ride. 

The  Lad  at  the  Wheel  was  instructed  to  show 
Ebenezer  the  Sights  that  would  do  him  the  most  good. 

"Our  respected  Neighbour  has  got  it  into  his  Bean 
that  a  Raw  Deal  has  been  framed  and  that  he  is  the 
Fall  Guy,"  explained  the  Committee  to  the  Aviator. 
"Load  him  on  your  Rubberneck  and  let  him  get 
wise  to  the  Happy  Lot  of  those  who  are  not  subject 
to  the  Oppressive  Conditions  which  have  caused  him 
to  holler." 


164  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

They  sailed  away,  and  a  strange  assortment  of 
changing  Landscapes  began  to  unroll  beneath  them. 

By  the  time  they  had  gone  a  paltry  Thousand 
Miles  in  a  southerly  direction,  it  was  revealed  to  the 
pop-eyed  Traveller  that  even  the  Home  of  the  Brave 
was  made  up  largely  of  Mountain  Ranges  and  Scrub 
Forest.  The  Bottom  Lands  were  subject  to  overflow 
and  the  Slopes  consisted  of  Mineral  Deposits. 

Presently  they  hovered  over  a  sun-baked  Expanse 
studded  with  prickly  Vegetation. 

"I  invite  your  Attention  to  the  Peon  of  Mexico/' 
said  the  polite  Guide.  "He  puts  in  the  usual  num 
ber  of  Hours  per  Day.  Once  in  a  great  while  he  is 
permitted  to  look  at  a  small  piece  of  depreciated  Tin 
Money.  He  lives  in  the  Mud  Hut  that  you  see  nest 
ling  among  the  Cacti.  His  food  consists  of  Injun 
Meal  and  Black  Beans  touched  up  with  Pepper 
Sauce.  If  he  lives  to  be  60  Years  of  Age,  he  still 
lacks  about  $18  of  having  enough  to  pay  the  Funeral 
Expenses." 

They  shot  eastward  above  blue  Waters  and  paused 
to  admire  an  Island  of  tropical  Aspect. 

"This  is  somewhere  in  the  West  Indies,"  said  the 
Guide.  "It  doesn't  matter  where,  because  the 
Farmer  is  just  as  well  off  one  place  as  another.  You 
will  notice  the  Gentleman  wearing  the  20-cent  suit 
of  Pajamas  and  chopping  down  Sugar  Cane.  He  is 
quite  beyond  the  reach  of  the  Coal  Trust,  being  sur 
rounded  by  a  genial  Temperature  of  100  degrees 
Fahrenheit.  He  resides  in  yonder  Store  Box 


THE  HARD-UP  YEOMAN  165 

mounted  on  Stilts.  When  he  shows  up  after  a  Hard 
Day  in  the  Fields,  he  finds  a  stewed  Banana  waiting 
for  him.  If  he  is  frugal,  some  day  he  will  own  both 
a  Guitar  and  a  Mule." 

Still  eastward  they  clove  their  way,  and  up  from 
the  Sea  rose  a  whole  Continent  of  Spired  Cities  and 
tiny  Gardens  and  first-class  Scenery. 

"This,  in  a  General  Way,  is  Southern  Europe," 
explained  the  Conductor  of  the  Tour.  "I  am  bear 
ing  to  the  south  because  the  Agricultural  Districts 
somewhat  to  the  North  have  been  cultivated  to  a 
depth  of  4  feet  and  planted  with  explosive  Shells.  It 
is  my  purpose  to  show  you  the  more  favoured  Regions. 
Look  at  the  huge  Hotels  and  the  dandy  Palaces. 
They  are  not  frequented  by  members  of  the  Farmers' 
Protective  Association,  but  the  humblest  Toiler  can 
look  at  them  every  time  he  straightens  up.  The 
Tower  you  see  yonder  is  not  a  Silo.  It  is  part  of  a 
Chateau.  Do  you  make  out  all  the  Truck  Patches? 
Well,  those  are  not  Truck  Patches  at  all.  They're 
Farms.  You  will  note  that  all  the  Women  and 
Children  are  permitted  to  take  Exercise  in  the  Open. 
Each  of  them  will  dally  with  a  hunk  of  Black  Bread 
and  a  large  Radish  later  in  the  day.  We  are  now 
looking  at  what  is  known  as  the  Home  of  Laughter 
and  Song.  This  is  a  grand  Spot  in  which  to  settle 
down  if  you  don't  object  to  rooming  with  the  Live 
Stock  and  can  subsist  on  the  aforesaid  Laughter  and 
Song." 

On  they  went,  with  tumbling  Waters  and  white 


106 


THE  HAKD-UP  YEOMAN  167 

Deserts  beneath  them.  They  came  to  a  mere  ribbon 
of  Green  bordering  a  River  which  wound  through  a 
Desolation  of  burning  Sand. 

"I  thought  you  would  enjoy  a  close-up  of  Egypt," 
said  the  Guide.  "This  is  where  Agriculture  was  in 
vented  a  good  many  Centuries  before  the  Year  One. 
Countless  Millions  have  been  working  at  it  ever  since, 
and  the  most  that  any  Tenant  ever  got  ahead  was  the 
Privilege  of  facing  eastward  twice  a  Day  and  giving 
Thanks  to  Mohammed.  The  Exhibit  to  which  I 
call  particular  Attention  is  the  Fellah  with  the 
Breech-Clout  driving  the  Oxen  and  guiding  the 
Plow  made  from  a  crooked  Limb.  He  is  still  pulling 
the  Ptolemy  Stuff  because  he  is  not  taxed  for  Free 
Schools  and  Experiment  Stations.  Please  get  next 
to  the  Bunch  lifting  the  Water  out  of  the  Nile  in 
buckets  and  pouring  it  into  Irrigation  Ditches. 
How's  that  for  the  little  old  20th  Century?  Each 
member  of  the  Bucket  Brigade  earns  almost  enough 
every  Day  to  buy  a  good  5-cent  Segar.  The  Grain 
is  trampled  out  according  to  the  most  approved  Old- 
Testament  methods.  I  forget  the  name  of  the  Staple 
Food  in  this  Vicinity,  but  it  is  a  kind  of  Ragweed  en 
Casserole.  Please  take  notice  that  these  dark- 
skinned  Persons  are  Hustlers.  You  don't  catch  one 
of  them  loafing  on  his  Job.  He  scratches  just  as 
hard  as  any  Township  Trustee  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley.  Does  he  get  anywhere?  After  a  long  and 
sweaty  Day,  he  sleeps  on  the  bare  Ground  under  a 
Canopy  of  Twigs  plastered  with  Mud.  He  looks  at 


168  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

an  unchanging  Horizon.  After  a  while  he  dies. 
Don't  pity  him.  He  never  heard  that  somewhere  in 
the  World  the  weary  Plowman  goes  to  the  Circus  and 
eats  Ice-Cream  Cones.  We  will  now  proceed  to 
India,  one  of  the  favourite  Haunts  of  those  who  go 
forth  to  Sow  and  Reap." 

During  the  next  Jump  through  Space,  Ebenezer 
confirmed  what  he  had  learned  in  the  Geography 
Class;  viz.,  that  most  of  the  Earth's  Surface  is 
covered  with  Water. 

He  picked  up  the  further  Information  that  most 
of  the  so-called  Land  looked  like  a  Gravel  Pit  that 
had  been  spread  out  to  dry. 

India,  he  had  read  somewhere,  was  the  Land  of 
Mystery. 

The  Mystery  turned  out  to  be  that  Swarms  and 
Myriads  of  skinny  Individuals  with  large,  mournful 
Eyes  and  fluttering  Cotton  Nighties  somehow  man 
aged  to  wrench  a  Sustenance  from  the  blistering 
Plains. 

Each  Human  Work-Animal  was  escorted  to  his 
daily  Task  by  the  Spooks  born  of  Superstition,  while 
behind  him  stalked  the  dim  Specter  of  Famine. 

"  Sometimes  a  Crop  does  not  come  up  to  Expecta 
tions,"  explained  the  Guide.  "When  that  happens, 
about  as  many  People  as  you  will  find  in  the  State  of 
Pennsylvania  curl  up  and  die  of  Starvation.  Land 
is  owned  by  the  Rajahs  and  Princes.  The  hereditary 
Privilege  of  the  Son  of  Toil,  here  as  in  almost  every 
nook  and  corner  of  our  happy  Planet,  is  to  remain 


THE  HARD-UP  YEOMAN  169 

alive  for  a  Period  of  Years.  I  need  hardly  tell  you 
that  the  hungry  Vegetarians  you  see  grubbing  in  the 
Fields  as  far  as  the  Eye  can  reach  never  heard  of 
Mince  Pie,  never  attended  a  Band  Concert,  never 
took  a  Joy  Ride,  and  never  sat  in  a  Rocking  Chair  to 
read  the  Home  Paper.  They  expect  to  get  their 
Reward  in  the  Hereafter.  It's  a  great  Scheme  for  a 
Landowner  to  meet  his  Pay-Roil  with  Checks  pay 
able  in  Paradise." 

They  moved  on.  Below  them  spread  the  vast 
Beehives  of  the  Old  World — Burma  and  Java  and 
Siam. 

"These  Natives  over  here  are  Nice  Folks,"  ex 
plained  the  Guide.  "They  can't  Read  or  Write  and 
they  don't  Vote  but,  on  the  Other  Hand,  they  don't 
have  to  conceal  anything  from  the  Assessor,  because 
they  have  nothing  to  conceal." 

China  proved  to  be  well  worth  seeing. 

All  the  checkered  Fields  were  green  and  gold  with 
heavy  Crops. 

The  wide  Expanses  of  farming  Country  were  un 
marked  by  Public  Highways  and  the  Residents  were 
far  removed  from  the  excessive  Freight  Charges  de 
manded  by  Railways. 

Each  Producer  carried  his  Crop  to  Market  in  a 
Basket. 

"Here  we  find  the  truly  independent  Farmer," 
said  the  Lecturer,  indicating  the  ornery  little  Villages 
which  huddled  in  the  Valleys.  "The  greedy  Manu 
facturers  and  the  Trust  Combines  have  not  been  able 


170  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

to  get  to  him  and  load  him  up  with  Self -Binders  and 
Grand  Rapids  Furniture  and  Cream  Separators  and 
Fancy  Groceries  and  all  the  other  Items  for  which  you 
and  your  unfortunate  Neighbours  are  overcharged 
at  Home.  By  reason  of  his  living  far  from  the  opera 
tions  of  the  Octopi,  he  is  enabled  to  get  along  on  an 
average  Wage  of  2  cents  per  Day.  Is  he  unhappy? 
Not  at  all.  Once  a  Week  he  sits  down  to  a  Banquet 
consisting  of  a  Bowl  of  Rice  with  a  piece  of  dried  Fish 
in  it." 

By  this  time,  Ebenezer  was  ready  to  admit  that 
almost  every  fool  corner  of  the  Earth  that  had  even  a 
skim  of  Soil  on  it  was  being  cultivated,  but  he  was 
surprised  to  discover  that  the  Foreigners  had  failed 
to  equip  their  Farms  with  Front  Porches  and  Garages 
and  other  Essentials. 

Either  he  knew  something  about  Farming  that 
they  didn't  know  or  else  there  was  some  other  Reason. 

On  the  homeward  Tack  the  Airplane  took  in 
Japan,  so  that  Ebenezer  could  observe  Conditions  in 
a  progressive  Nation  where  the  Harvest  Hand  pulls 
down  14  Cents  a  Day  and  can  afford  to  put  dried 
Fish  into  the  Rice  two  or  three  times  a  Week. 

During  the  hasty  skip  across  the  Pacific,  the  Guide 
addressed  Ebenezer  as  follows : 

"Well,  my  jolly  Home-Seeker,  if  you  decide  later 
on  to  flee  from  the  predatory  Inflictions  which  have 
caused  you  so  much  sorrow  in  the  U.  S.  A.,  to  which 
part  of  this  Terrestrial  Sphere  will  you  emigrate? 
Of  all  the  drudging  Farmers  on  the  outside  Map,  is 


THE  HARD-UP  YEOMAN  171 

there  one  with  whom  you  would  trade  Places?  Can 
you  see  any  one  of  them  running  a  Shoe-String  up  to 
240  Acres?" 

They  began  to  make  out  the  white  Houses  and  the 
big  Red  Barns  and  the  Fat  Stock  and  the  ribbons  of 
Macadam  and  the  flivs  moving  hither  and  thither, 
while  in  between  and  all  around  were  the  unhampered 
and  generous  Fields. 

"How  do  they  look  to  you?  "  asked  the  Conductor. 

"  Oh,  Boy ! "  was  all  that  Eb  could  exclaim. 

Moral:     Where  Ignorance  is  not  Bliss,  get  Wise! 


THE  FABLE  OF  PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  WHO  LIVED 
IN  EASY  STREET  AND  THEN  MOVED  AWAY 

ONCE  there  was  a  Boy  named  Claude,  born 
with  a  Plated- Ware  Spoon  in  his  Mouth. 
When  he  was  21  he  came  into  a  very  salu 
brious  Chunk  of  Property. 

Before  the  Family  Plunder  was  pushed  over  to 
him,  by  order  of  Court,  he  lived  on  Expectations. 

While  the  less-favoured  Lads  of  the  Village  were 
learning  Trades  or  clerking  at  the  Bee  Hive,  Claude 
was  reading  the  Ads  and  picking  out  what  he  would 
get  for  himself  when  he  was  of  Age. 

Why  arise  at  chilly  Dawn  and  hot-foot  to  a  Slave 
Pen  when  it  is  so  pleasant  under  the  Covers? 

Why  strain  the  Ligaments  for  a  wretched  Dole 
of  Ten  Bucks  Per,  when  both  Tens  and  Twenties 
are  waiting  in  the  Bank  to  be  wadded  up  and  thrown 
at  the  Robins? 

It  is  said  that  Parents  who  have  Gone  Before 
sometimes  rest  from  their  Harp  Exercises  and  walk 
to  the  edge  of  the  Golden  Parapet  to  look  down  and 
Keep  Cases  on  the  Loved  Ones  still  detained  on  Earth. 

If  the  Ex-Plumber  and  Gas  Fitter  was  acting  as 
Look-Out  for  Claude,  he  did  not  have  much  News 
to  report. 

172 


PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  173 

About  all  he  got  was  a  Bird's-Eye  View  of  a  pale 
Gillie  engaged  in  rolling  these  little  Fire-Cracker 
Cigarettes  and  watching  the  Fellows  play  Kelly. 

Just  about  the  Happy  Day  when  Claude  was 
getting  all  set  to  Snip  the  twine  on  his  Bundle  there 
came  to  Town  a  plain  product  of  the  Suburbs  an 
swering  to  the  name  of  Silas. 

Silas  had  failed  to  discover  that  Life  held  any  large 
Percentage  of  Lavender  for  the  Son  of  a  Teamster. 

Silas  was  simply  a  Rear  Private  in  the  large  Army 
that  beat  it  down-town  every  Morning,  with  the 
Wolf  trotting  along  behind. 

When  his  Laundry  failed  to  get  back  on  time  he 
was  in  a  Bad  Way. 

He  wasn't  a  Good-Looker  or  a  Swell  Dresser  or 
quick  with  the  Organs  of  Articulation. 

He  was  a  Flumpie,  which  is  a  Cross  between  a 
Gugg  and  a  Yap. 

On  the  day  which  brought  him  the  right  to  Vote 
against  the  Party  in  Power,  his  only  Assets  were  the 
contents  of  a  frail  Steamer  Trunk,  an  eager  Willing 
ness  to  serve  his  Chief,  and  a  permeating  Wish  to 
be  a  Depositor  and  carry  his  own  Pass-Book  with  an 
Elastic  around  it. 

Just  two  Blocks  away,  Claude  was  counting  the 
Leaves  in  his  new  Check-Book  and  trying  to  grapple 
with  and  encompass  the  Stupendous  Fact  that  he  had 
One  Hundred  Thousand  gleaming  Simoleons. 

This  Sum  is  either  Large  or  Small,  according  to  its 
Habitat. 


174  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

In  New  York  City  at  the  present  Writing,  it  rep 
resents  what  a  good  Head  Waiter  is  expected  to 
spend  on  a  Christmas  Present  for  his  Wife. 

In  some  of  the  interior  Counties  of  Arkansaw,  it 
would  look  like  the  National  Debt. 

Thirty  years  ago,  many  an  Inland  Town  looked 
up  to  the  local  Croesus  who  had  corralled  One  Hun 
dred  Thousand.  He  was  supposed  to  be  Fixed. 

To  Claude  the  Amount  seemed  Sufficient,  and 
to  Silas  it  was  simply  Himalayan. 

Such  was  the  Get-Away  for  the  Long-Distance 
Championship — Silas  without  a  Bean,  and  Claude 
smothered  with  Greenbacks. 

It  was  to  be  a  hard  and  wearing  Race  toward  the 
setting  Sun. 

Only  a  real  Dopester  would  have  given  the  Tip 
that  Claude  carried  all  the  Weight  and  that  Silas 
was  an  Odds-On  Favourite. 

Silas  believed  that  he  had  been  cruelly  handi^ 
capped,  and  Claude  was  sobusy  being  measured  for 
Silk  Underwear  that  he  never  suspected  that  there 
was  going  to  be  any  Contest. 

He  thought  Life  was  a  Parade. 

They  were  of  the  same  Age.  Each  had  enjoyed 
the  Disadvantages  of  High  School  Training,  wore  a 
Number  Seven  Hat,  and  carried  a  very  Moderate 
Voltage  above  the  Neck-Band. 

The  main  Difference  seemed  to  be  that  Silas  was 
a  Putter-In  and  Claude  was  a  Taker-Out. 

Each  Nightfall  the  humble  Climber  was  slightly 


PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  175 

Plus,  while  the  merry  Tobogganer  was  more  or  less 
Minus,  thereby  supplying  us  with  the  whole  Plot  of 
the  Drama. 

It  does  not  signify  one  Iota  or  Scintilla  where 
you  may  be  pegged  on  the  Chart  at  4  o'clock  of  a 
certain  Afternoon.  But  the  Direction  in  which  you 
are  headed  makes  it  a  moral  Pipe  to  bet  on  your 
Terminus. 

It  is  not  of  Record  that  any  one  ever  coasted  to  the 
top  of  Pike's  Peak. 

One  day,  while  Silas  was  still  working  on  Page  1 
of  the  Red  Book  given  to  him  by  the  Bank,  he  passed 
the  mid- Victorian  Morgue  in  which  Claude  was 
signing  most  of  his  Checks. 

The  shabby  Servitor  stood  at  a  Safe  Distance 
and  watched  the  high-flown  Aristocrat  climb  into  an 
English  Vehicle  and  gather  up  the  Ribbons. 

At  that  date,  the  pampered  Worldling  did  not  ride 
in  something  shaped  like  a  U  27  Submarine  while 
seated  on  his  Floating  Ribs  and  peering  out  through 
a  Wheel. 

He  was  perched  some  14  feet  above  Terra  Firma 
and  favoured  the  Brown  Derby  and  Pearl  Buttons. 

Silas  gazed  at  the  Proud  Pup  and  became  coagu 
lated  with  Bitterness. 

For  about  15  Seconds  he  was  a  Bomb-Thrower. 

"It  is  no  Fair  Shake,"  he  told  himself.  "Why 
should  he  spend  more  for  Florida  Water  every  week 
than  I  pull  down  in  Stipend?  " 

As  for  Claude,  he  experienced  no  emotional  Dis- 


176 


PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  177 

turbance  whatever  as  he  glanced  at  the  Person  in 
Hand-me-Downs . 

To  him,  the  mere  Wage-Earner  was  an  uncon- 
sidered  Item,  the  same  as  a  Tree  or  a  Policeman. 

So  the  One  Hundred  Thousand  Dollars  went 
spinning  up  the  Boulevard  and  the  Pauper  proceeded 
homeward,  grimly  determined  to  get  some  of  the 
Coin  in  which  so  many  undeserving  Folk  seemed  to 
be  wallowing. 

Claude  could  have  lived  within  his  Income  if  he 
had  worked  at  anything  other  than  Ordering  Things 
sent  up  to  the  House. 

A  yearly  Windfall  of  Five  Thousand  would  be 
Nuts  for  one  too  busy  to  go  Shopping.  It  is 
not  such  a  much  for  one  of  those  wrap-it-up 
Kids. 

Especially  if  the  jolly  little  Spender  gets  led  to  the 
Altar  by  a  Damsel  who  wants  all  of  her  Dreams  to 
come  true. 

The  Boy  who  makes  two  Check-Books  grow  where 
one  flourished  before  is  certainly  Santa  Claus  for  the 
Tradespeople. 

Each  year  the  Rentals  and  Coupons  went  up  in 
graceful  Curls  of  Smoke  and  the  Young  People,  not 
wishing  to  Starve  or  be  deprived  of  their  Stick-Pins 
and  Brooches,  began  to  hack  large  irregular  Blobs 
out  of  the  Principal. 

Every  January  1st  they  had  less  Money  working 
for  them.  With  the  Income  dwindling  and  the 
Spending  Habit  asserting  itself  in  new  and  startling 


178  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Ramifications,  there  was  no  let-up  to  the  Melting 
process. 

When  Claude  and  Silas  were  30  years  of  Age,  the 
Latter  was  only  $5,000  to  the  Good  but  he  had  spikes 
in  his  Shoes  and  Rosen  all  over  his  Dukes  and  knew 
the  Ropes. 

Claude  still  had  Seventy-five  Thousand  and  had 
learned  that  when  one  needs  immediate  Rhino,  all 
one  has  to  do  is  open  the  Tin  Box  and  sell  Some 
thing.  Even  so. 

Silas  was  an  Oatmeal  Fan  and  Claude  was  getting 
so  that  he  could  tell  one  Vintage  from  another  with 
his  Eyes  Shut. 

And  now,  grabbing  the  License  afforded  every 
writer  for  the  Movies,  flash  Sub-Title  "Five  Years 
Later"  and  dissolve  into  Close-Up  of  Claude  seated 
in  a  Booth  at  the  Safety  Deposit  Vault  anxiously  shuf 
fling  his  Securities.  Let  the  Picture  reveal  the  Fact 
that  he  is  alarmed  over  the  High  Cost  of  Living  High. 

He  has  Fifty  Thousand  of  the  Original  Stake.  His 
Income  has  been  sliced  in  two,  the  same  as  a  Canta 
loupe.  His  Expenditures  have  doubled.  He  is 
thinking  that  probably  he  had  better  do  a  quick 
Sashay  into  Wall  Street,  fill  a  couple  of  Suit  Cases 
with  soft  Jack  and  then  get  out  again,  just  like  that. 

It  was  a  very  pretty  Inspiration,  of  the  kind  that 
enables  the  Stock  Broker  to  play  Golf  every  Sum 
mer  for  a  Box  of  Balls  a  Hole. 

Just  as  Claude  started  out  to  place  an  Order  for 
a  Thousand  Shares  of  anything  that  was  sure  to  go 


PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  179 

up,  he  met  Silas  coming  in  to  plant  the  Deed  for  a 
Desirable  Corner. 

Claude  did  not  speak  to  Silas.  He  could  not  be 
expected  to  know  a  Grubber  of  the  Middle  Class, 
who  controlled  only  about  Twenty  Thousand  and 
never  had  Dined  Out. 

Silas  did  not  pause  to  envy  the  Social  Leader.  He 
was  too  busy  with  his  Mental  Arithmetic,  figuring 
what  his  Real  Estate  would  fetch  ten  years  hence, 
after  everything  had  moved  farther  Up  Town. 

Without  going  into  all  the  Details  of  eating  the 
Tape  as  it  came  out  of  the  Ticker,  the  occasional 
call  for  Bromo  Seltzer,  and  inside  Tips  from  promi 
nent  Head  Waiters,  it  may  be  announced  without 
fear  of  Contradiction  that  Claude's  Operations  on 
the  Exchange  did  not  lead  up  to  any  extensive 
Slaughter. 

It  was  not  generally  known  at  the  corner  of  Broad 
and  Wall  that  he  had  been  sitting  in. 

Claude  knew  it,  however,  because  he  had  so  much 
more  Room  in  his  Tin  Box. 

When  Silas  was  38  years  old,  he  met  Claude  at  a 
Dinner  given  by  Prominent  Citizens  to  a  Statesman 
from  Washington  who  had  Hopes. 

They  were  brought  together  because  each  was  a 
trembling  Conservative. 

Claude  had  Twenty  Five  Thousand  Bucks  of  the 
evaporating  variety,  which  he  wished  to  retain  as 
long  as  possible. 

Silas  had  Forty  Thousand  Iron  Men,  trained  to 


180  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

work  24  Hours  every  Day,  which  he  proposed  to 
pyramid  into  a  Million  if  Congress  did  not  get 
fidgety  and  spill  the  Beans. 

Silas  no  longer  hated  Claude.  He  did  not  so  much 
as  recall  the  Day  when  he  gnashed  his  Teeth  at  the 
Young  Swell  in  the  Driving  Togs. 

At  this  Stage  of  the  Game,  Silas  reserved  his  Envy 
for  someone  who  could  show  more  than  Forty 
Thousand. 

It  was  Claude's  turn  to  be  set  back  into  the  Two- 
Hole. 

He  found  himself  deferring  to  the  Money-Maker ; 
it  being  fairly  well  understood  between  them  that 
one  was  a  Comer  and  the  other  was  a  Goer. 

In  fact,  they  closed  a  little  Deal  involving  two  en 
cumbered  Lots  right  there  at  the  Table. 

The  Reader  will  be  given  Three  Guesses  as  to 
which  of  the  Traders  had  an  Ace  in  Reserve. 

The  Shift  from  Crackers  and  Milk  to  Guinea  Hen 
can  be  managed  nicely,  as  we  learn  by  glancing  into 
any  First-Class  Hotel. 

But  a  Jump  from  Guinea  Hen  to  Dairy  Products 
by  one  never  having  gone  against  the  Lacteal  Stuff 
is  what  Sherman  said  about  People  shooting  at  One 
Another; 

Shortly  after  Claude  went  limping  past  the  40th 
Mile  Stone,  he  had  to  blow  the  Whistle  on  Friend 
Wife,  who  was  getting  ready  to  send  Daughter  to 
Europe  and  put  Son  in  Yale. 

The  Family  threw  three  individual  Fits  when  the 


PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  181 

Producer  showed  them  his  Stack  and  warned  them 
to  get  braced  for  a  rattling  good  Bump. 

He  had  a  few  scattering  Assets  but  he  could  not 
remember  the  names  of  all  the  Mortgage  Holders  or 
when  the  Paper  fell  due. 

All  he  knew  for  Sure  was  that  the  proposed  In 
come  Tax  would  not  gouge  him  very  deep. 

The  Loved  Ones  felt  that  they  had  been  double- 
crossed  and  nimmed. 

For  20  years  they  had  been  permitted  to  nurse 
a  Delusion  that  Papa  had  Nothing  But. 

His  Private  Fortune  had  seemed  to  them  a  pleasant 
and  permanent  Source  of  Supply,  something  like  the 
Croton  Reservoir. 

Mother  sat  there  with  her  Fingers  spread  apart 
by  the  Rings  and  wanted  to  know  what  he  had  done 
with  it.  She  seemed  to  wonder  if  he  had  been 
slathering  it  on  Another  Woman. 

It  was  agreed  that  Claude  had  to  get  busy  and 
Do  Something. 

The  Idea  of  chopping  Expenses  just  when  the 
Children  were  making  Headway  in  the  Younger  Set 
was  almost  too  painful  for  Discussion. 

So  Claude  decided  to  put  his  Pride  in  his  Pocket 
and  accept  a  Position  as  Head  of  some  Respectable 
and  Hefty  Corporation,  starting  in  at  Ten  Thousand 
a  year  and  working  up. 

He  had  a  Proud  Chance. 

All  of  those  Show-Me  Sharks  who  pull  the  Strings 
probably  toss  about  on  their  Pillows  every  Night, 


182  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

wondering  where  they  can  find  a  high-salaried  Ga- 
zimbo  who  looks  well  in  Evening  Clothes  and  knows 
how  to  carve  a  Duck. 

Silas  had  elbowed  his  way  into  a  gigantic  Merger 
Proposition  and  was  just  getting  his  Full  Stride 
when  Claude  blew. 

So  it  was  to  Silas  that  Claude  hied  himself 
and  said  he  was  willing  to  accept  a  Position  as 
one  of  the  Executive  Heads  of  the  blossoming 
Combine. 

He  knew  how  to  walk  into  an  Office  and  sit  at  a 
Mahogany  Desk,  because  he  had  been  managing  the 
Estate. 

In  fact,  he  had  managed  it  so  much  that  he  had 
worn  it  out,  and  now  he  wanted  to  start  in  on  Some 
thing  Fresh. 

Silas  should  have  pulled  something  like  the  Fol 
lowing  : 

"Well,  Claude  Dexter,  the  Tables  have  been 
turned.  Yuhs  ago,  when  I  was  a  struggling  Strip 
ling,  your  Eyesight  did  not  carry  10  Feet  in  my 
Direction.  Now  that  I  am  Rich — Aye,  and  Power 
ful  withal,  you  come  to  Cringe  and  Fawn.  Take 
That  and  That!" 

On  the  Contrary,  he  merely  Stalled. 

He  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  Fluffie  and  respected 
him  moderately  because  of  the  superior  Cut  of  his 
Clothes. 

He  had  the  Application  put  on  File  and  promised 
to  speak  to  the  other  Directors. 


PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  183 

In  fact,  he  showed  that  he  was  willing  to  do  al 
most  anything  for  Claude  except  hire  him. 

Claude  had  a  fretful  Time  trying  to  discover  a 
good  Business  Opening  for  one  whose  Training  had 
consisted  of  telling  the  Waiter  to  keep  the  Change. 

Sometimes  he  felt  that  he  should  have  clapped 
on  the  Brakes  before  smashing  into  the  large  Boulder 
at  the  Foot  of  the  Grade. 

While  he  was  thus  Brooding,  the  Creditors  divided 
up  the  Residue. 

In  the  period  of  Blue  Gloom  following  any  Domes 
tic  Catastrophe,  it  is  usually  the  Wife  who  takes 
off  her  Long  Gloves  and  proceeds  to  save  the  Pieces. 

When  it  came  to  reorganizing,  Claude  was  just  as 
useful  as  a  One-Legged  Man  at  a  Fire. 

He  sat  back  with  his  Head  in  a  Sling  and  watched 
the  Society  Matron  get  ready  to  conduct  a  Boarding 
House  for  Refined  People  of  Moderate  Means. 

Claude  is  now  50  years  of  Age  and  a  great  help 
to  his  Wife,  because  he  does  nearly  all  of  the  Market 
ing. 

He  would  play  a  fairly  good  game  of  Cards  if  he 
could  remember  what  is  Out. 

At  that,  he  has  the  Manner  of  one  who  has  en 
joyed  Advantages.  Otherwise  he  is  Nix. 

Sometimes,  when  he  is  on  his  way  to  the  Corner 
to  order  the  Lamb  Chops  and  Celery  and  a  few  boxes 
of  snappy  Crackers,  he  hears  a  low  purring  Sound, 
which  continues  to  crescendo  until  a  huge  Motor 
Car  of  next  year's  Design  goes  zipping  by.  Within 


184 


PRINCE  FORTUNATAS  185 

the  Car  sits  Silas,  one  of  the  most  hateful  specimens 
of  the  Newly  Arrived. 

Silas  knows  that  about  next  September  he  will 
be  taken  up  by  the  Old  Families  who  have  been 
prominent  since  the  Panic  of  '73. 

All  of  the  Phenomena  herewith  related  have  been 
observed  time  and  again  in  every  town  on  the  Map. 

The  only  surprising  Climax  to  the  Tale  is  provided 
by  Silas,  who  now  has  four  Children. 

He  is  planning  to  make  them  happy  and  useful 
Citizens  by  leaving  each  one  of  them  about  a  Hun 
dred  Thousand. 

Moral:  The  only  safe  Income  is  Self-Hatched. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  STRAIGHT  AND  NARROW  PATH 
LEADING  TO  THE  REFRESHMENT  COUNTER 

ONCE  there  was  a  Getter  named  Ichabod 
Roxworthy.     His  Father  had  married  into 
the  famous  Clamm  Family  of  New  England, 
and  one  of  his  Ancestors  was  that  godly  Character, 
Jonas  Wolf,  of  York  State,  who  traded  a  Demijohn 
of  Squirrel  Whisky  and  two  Looking-Glasses  for  all 
that  portion  of  the  New  World  lying  west  of  Albany. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  had  it  in  every  Pocket  because  he 
was  a  Good  Man. 

He  knew  that  some  day  or  other  he  would  Shuffle 
and  two  Minutes  after  his  milk-white  Soul  had 
winged  skyward  he  would  be  checking  in  at  the 
Pearly  Gates  and  Saint  Peter  would  be  showing  him 
a  Diagram  and  urging  him  to  take  a  Room  with  a 
good  view  of  the  Lower  Regions,  so  he  would  be  sure 
to  Enjoy  himself. 

Even  those  who  had  been  stung  by  Ichabod  could 
not  deny  that  he  was  booked  for  the  Pearly  Gates. 
They  merely  hoped  that  all  of  the  Pearls  would  be 
fastened  from  the  inside  by  Rivets. 

One  Monday  morning  Mr.  Roxworthy  arose  feel 
ing  sure  that  he  would  be  prospered  during  the  Week 
to  come  if  he  carried  the  right  Tools. 
186 


STRAIGHT  AND  NARROW  PATH     187 

The  Sabbath  had  been  dedicated  to  Meditation, 
Prayer,  Dark  Clothes,  and  Overeating. 

The  Mo  tor-Car  had  remained  cold  in  the  Garage. 

No  soul-destroying  Golf  for  Mr.  Roxworthy  on 
the  day  of  Rest. 

Instead  of  desecrating  the  long  Sabbath  P.M. 
he  preferred  to  sit  back  in  some  quiet  Spot  and  frame 
up  a  few  air-tight  Cinches. 

As  he  came  out  of  the  Zone  of  Sanctimony  into  the 
cold  Realities  of  Monday  morning,  he  was  working 
full-time  under  the  Bonnet  and  getting  ready  to  slip 
over  some  Hot  Ones. 

He  was  worried  as  to  the  Future  of  a  Manufactur 
ing  Venture  in  which  he  held  a  hatful  of  Stock. 

This  Stock  never  had  declared  a  Divvy,  and 
the  whole  Venture  was  commonly  regarded  as  a 
Quince. 

Only  the  watchful  Deacon  and  a  few  Insiders 
knew  of  a  cheapened  Process  and  the  certain  Prospect 
of  Juicy  Contracts  which  would  convert  the  Fliv  into 
a  Baby  Doll. 

So  he  was  worried. 

He  saw  a  lot  of  Soft  Collateral  finding  its  way  to 
those  who  might  waste  it  in  Sinful  Practices. 

That  is  why  we  catch  him  on  Monday,  at  close 
quarters  with  a  Lawyer  who  could  walk  in  fresh 
Snow  without  leaving  any  Tracks. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  made  a  candid  Statement  of 
Facts,  after  assuring  himself  that  no  one  was  lurking 
on  the  Fire-Escape. 


188  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  Property  might  have  a  Future  if  taken  over 
by  Responsible  Parties  of  known  Integrity. 

The  Lawyer  said  everything  would  be  quite  Legal. 
A  little  roundabout  and  more  or  less  in  the  Twilight, 
but  Legal. 

They  would  send  a  Goat  into  Court  and  ask  for 
the  appointment  of  a  Receiver. 

Then  a  few  carefully  selected  Pall-Bearers  would 
go  out  and  buy  up  Stock  held  by  the  poor  Flatheads 
likely  to  go  Cold  in  the  Feet  when  they  heard  of  the 
Receivership. 

When  the  controlling  Interest  had  been  garnered 
by  a  capable  Minority,  the  Receiver  would  jump 
gracefully  out  of  the  Window  and  the  real  Business 
Guys  would  go  ahead  and  collect  the  Pickings. 

It  was  all  just  as  regular  as  melting  the  Lid  off  of 
a  Child's  Tin  Bank. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  felt  intensely  relieved  to  know  that 
he  could  put  it  across  without  snagging  into  the  Re 
vised  Statutes. 

He  and  the  Limb  of  the  Law  went  out  to  Lunch 
at  a  Club  where  some  of  the  Lockers  were  still  doing 
Business. 

The  Counselor  suggested  a  little  Shake-Up  with  a 
Foundation  of  Gin. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  recoiled  as  if  from  a  Blow. 

"How  dare  you?"  he  demanded,  putting  on  the 
Tremolo.  "How  dare  you  offer  me  Rum?  I  want 
you  to  know  that  not  one  Drop  of  Anything  ever 
passed  these  here  Lips.  Would  I  be  the  loved  and 


190  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

honoured  Citizen  I  am  to-day  if  I  had  licked  up  Cock 
tails?  Take  my  Advice  and  flee  from  the  Tempter." 

Tuesday  was  all  to  the  Happy  for  the  He  Seraph. 

The  kindly  Providence  that  notes  the  fall  of  a 
Sparrow  saw  to  it  that  Ichabod  more  than  made  his 
Expenses  on  this  same  Tuesday. 

A  certain  Boyhood  Friend,  who  was  slowly  sink 
ing  into  a  morass  of  Mortgages,  still  held  on  to  a 
piece  of  Corner  Property  just  on  the  border  of  the 
Business  District. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  sometimes  purchased  reliable 
Advance  Tips  from  needy  Persons  employed  by 
Architects  and  Real-Estate  Promoters.  He  under 
stood  it  was  not  against  the  Law. 

On  Tuesday  he  learned  that  the  Transfers  had  been 
made  and  the  Plans  approved  for  the  construction  of 
a  huge  Department  Store  right  across  the  Street 
from  the  property  owned  by  his  Boyhood  Friend. 

At  the  same  time  he  had  an  awful  Hunch  that 
Boyhood  Friend  was  not  wise  to  the  projected  Im 
provements. 

So  he  dropped  in,  casual-like,  to  see  his  dear  old 
Side  Kick  and  Playmate  of  other  Days. 

A  tale  of  Grief  was  waiting  for  him.  It  involved 
a  Sick  Wife  and  Premiums  due  on  Insurance  Policies 
and  the  longing  to  send  Daughter  to  College. 

Well,  when  Mr.  Roxworthy  found  his  Old  Friend 
lying  face  downward  in  the  Gravel,  he  sure  did  a 
Magnanimous  Thing. 

He  took  over  the  Corner  Property  at  about  80 


191 


192  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

per  cent,  of  the  recent  Market  Value  and  about  30 
per  cent,  of  what  it  would  Fetch  after  being  taken 
into  the  Retail  Shopping  District. 

Of  course  the  Friend  was  grateful.  He  offered 
Mr.  Roxworthy  a  Cigar. 

"I  don't  use  Tobacco  in  no  Form,"  said  Mr.  Rox 
worthy,  severely.  "It  is  a  vile  Habit.  I'd  say  that 
any  Man  using  the  Weed  could  hardlj  be  called  a 
Moral  Man." 

He  walked  up  street  with  the  Option  next  his 
Heart  and  a  great  Peace  seemed  to  flood  his  Soul. 

He  had  copped  40,000  Louies,  just  like  picking 
Fruit,  and,  at  the  same  time,  he  had  rebuked  a 
Wrong-doer. 

That  was  his  Idea  of  a  Perfect  Day — to  kick  Satan 
in  the  shins  and  then  bring  home  the  Bacon. 

Wednesday  was  a  fairly  trying  Day  for  the  Bene 
factor. 

No  sooner  did  he  get  through  with  a  meeting  of 
the  Committee  to  investigate  Charges  against  the 
Minister  than  he  had  to  sit  down  with  his  Book-keeper 
and  figure  out  a  Declaration  of  Income  for  the 
Treasury  Department. 

When  it  came  to  coughing  up  Taxes,  Ich  was  what 
you  might  term  a  Conscientious  Objector. 

He  never  had  any  way  of  knowing,  when  he  turned 
his  hard-earned  Spon  over  to  the  Government,  that 
the  Coin  would  be  wisely  expended  by  someone 
whose  Prirate  Life  was  Pure. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  the  surest  waj  to  corrupt 


STRAIGHT  AND  NARROW  PATH      193 

Public  Officials  was  to  give  them  too  much  Money  to 
handle.  So  he  tried  to  keep  them  Honest. 

Poor  Mr.  Roxworthy!  The  Book-keeper  would 
ask  about  this  Item  and  that  Item,  referring  to 
Bunches  of  Grapes  that  the  True  Believer  had 
plucked  in  the  Vineyard. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  was  in  doubt  regarding  the  Pro 
priety  of  including  these  Side  Issues  and  Pick-Ups 
in  any  Sworn  Statement  of  his  regular  Income. 

He  studied  the  various  sub-headings  and  didn't 
see  just  where  they  could  be  worked  in  and,  rather 
than  make  a  Mistake  and  cause  Confusion  at  the 
Collector's  Office,  he  left  them  out  altogether. 

He  knew,  away  down  in  his  Gizzard,  that  the 
Declaration  he  attested  before  the  Notary  did  not 
include  all  of  the  scattered  Receipts  during  a  busy 
year,  but  he  had  the  Satisfaction  of  feeling  that, 
even  if  he  held  out  a  little  Kale,  he  more  than  made 
up  the  Shortage  by  setting  a  Good  Example  to  all 
other  Citizens  Day  by  Day. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  was  so  relieved  over  his  success 
ful  negotiation  of  the  Income-Tax  Hurdle  that  he 
took  his  Daughter  to  a  Stereopticon  Lecture  on 
Egypt. 

She  timidly  suggested  going  to  a  Play  which  had 
been  fumigated  for  the  Family  Trade,  but  he  ex 
plained  to  her  that  the  Playhouse  was  an  Evil  In 
fluence,  even  when  it  masqueraded  as  a  Teacher  of 
Correct  Behaviour. 

The   Lights   and   Music   and   False   Excitement 


194  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Helped  to  distract  attention  from  the  Solemn  Reali 
ties  of  Life  and  substitute  Frivolities  for  humble 
Virtues. 

Furthermore,  while  waiting  his  Turn  at  the  Bar 
ber  Shop,  he  had  read  some  terrible  Stories  about 
Actresses  in  The  Police  Gazette. 

Thursday  called  fqr  some  lively  Stepping. 

The  Directors  of  an  Interurban  Electric  were  to 
meet  in  the  Afternoon  and  place  a  Contract  for  much 
new  Equipment. 

A  majority  of  the  Directors  were  Papier  Mache 
and  subject  to  the  Domination  of  the  more  forceful 
Characters  of  the  Rox worthy  Type. 

Before  casting  his  Vote,  Mr.  Roxworthy  wanted 
to  know  all  of  the  Facts  in  the  Case,  so  he  happened 
into  the  Office  of  the  President  of  the  Concern  that 
was  angling  for  the  Contract. 

He  asked  many  pertinent  Questions. 

He  (Roxworthy)  was  friendly  enough,  but  they 
had  a  few  Stubborn  Ones  on  the  Board  who  would 
be  mighty  hard  to  handle. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  said  he  would  feel  a  good  deal 
freer  to  put  up  a  Battle  if  he  knew  that  the  Company 
receiving  the  Contract  was  under  conservative  Man 
agement. 

Here  was  an  Opening  too  wide  to  be  missed.  The 
President  of  the  Company  tumbled. 

"Suppose,"  said  he,  "that  we  drop  a  few  Shares 
of  Stock  into  your  Pocket  when  you  are  not  looking 
and  then  put  you  on  the  Board?  You  would  have 


STRAIGHT  AND  NARROW  PATH     195 

supervisory  Power  and  could  protect  your  other 
Company." 

Oh,  the  Look  that  Mr.  Roxworthy  shot  at  the 
One  who  spoke  the  Above ! 

"How  dare  you?"  he  demanded.  "Evidently 
you  are  not  acquainted  with  my  reputation  for 
Probity.  Do  you  realize  that  you  are  offering  me  a 
Bribe?  If  I  am  to  acquire  any  Stock  in  your  Corpor 
ation  so  as  to  protect  my  Associates  in  the  Interur- 
ban,  it  will  be  by  Purchase.  Everything  Regular 
and  Aboveboard — that's  my  Motto." 

He  took  quite  a  hunk  of  Stock  at  Par.  The  Mar 
ket  Price  was  280,  but  it  was  agreed  by  all  Present 
that  Mr.  Roxworthy  was  entitled  to  come  in  on  the 
same  Terms  as  the  original  Incorporators. 

After  the  Contract  was  let,  the  280  Stock  was  300, 
which  shows  that  Values  are  enhanced  by  Legitimate 
Methods  rather  than  by  Manipulation. 

Friday  was  devoted  to  what  you  might  call  Inside 
Stuff. 

It  happens  that  in  almost  any  State  indicated 
on  the  Map,  Corporate  Interests  are  constantly  ha 
rassed  and  menaced  by  Legislators  who  are  trying  to 
pay  off  Mortgages  on  their  Homes. 

Oppressive  and  confiscatory  Bills  are  introduced 
by  hungry  Highbinders. 

These  are  the  customary  Preludes  to  a  Shake- 
Down. 

The  organized  Interests  which  find  themselves 
threatened  are  supposed  to  charge  up  a  Jack-Pot 


1»6  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

to  Operating  Expenses  and  then  select  a  Trusty 
to  go  and  feed  the  Animals. 

With  much  reluctance,  Mr.  Roxworthy  had  made 
a  Date  with  a  slippery  Go-Between  for  Friday  After 
noon. 

Although  Mr.  Roxworthy  had  always  kept  his 
Skirts  clean  and  would  have  refused  to  dicker  with 
Corrupt  Influences,  he  naturally  had  his  doubts  when 
the  Hired  Man  brought  in  an  Expense  Account  of 
$8,000  for  Cigarettes. 

If  there  was  any  Crooked  Work  going  on,  Mr. 
Roxworthy  preferred  not  to  suspect,  so  he  wore 
Blinders. 

The  useful  Bird  who  could  handle  the  Boys  had 
been  summoned  by  Mr.  Roxworthy  because  there 
was  pending  a  Measure  which  would  put  an  awful 
Crimp  in  certain  Public  Utilities. 

The  Fixer  had  a  couple  of  Shortcomings,  but  Mr. 
Roxworthy  was  inclined  to  drape  them  with  the 
mantle  of  Charity,  because  any  one  who  protects  an 
Investor  against  Legislative  Oppression  cannot  be 
wholly  Bad. 

It  appeared  that  the  Menagerie  was  in  a  restless 
Mood,  with  much  Howling  and  showing  of  Fangs. 

According  to  the  Middleman,  it  would  require 
quite  a  bale  of  Mazuma  to  finance  the  Campaign 
of  Education  and  counteract  the  misleading  Propa 
ganda. 

Mr.  Roxworthy,  speaking  for  his  incorruptible 
Associates,  said  they  were  willing  to  Dig,  in  order 


STRAIGHT  AND  NARROW  PATH     197 

to  protect  Property  Interests  against  vicious  Social 
istic  Tendencies,  but  they  would  suggest  that  no 
Improper  use  be  made  of  the  Currency  after  it  had 
been  tied  into  Bundles. 

The  Gum-Shoe  Specialist  scouted  the  Suggestion. 
He  said  that  practically  all  of  the  Funds  would  be 
paid  as  Fees  to  Country  Lawyers  for  drafting  Sub 
stitute  Measures  from  which  Objectionable  Features 
would  be  eliminated. 

He  confided  the  Information  that  a  Party  Leader 
with  a  heavy  Drag  happened  to  be  in  Town,  and 
he  suggested  that  Mr.  Roxworthy  could  make  a  ten- 
strike  with  the  Tall-Grass  Statesman  by  showing 
him  a  Swell  Time. 

"He  votes  Dry  on  Roll-Call,  but  is  a  Bust-Over 
when  he  sees  the  Electric  Signs,"  said  Wise  Ike. 
"Take  him  to  a  Cabaray  where  the  Cuties  hop  on 
one  Foot,  and  you'll  have  your  Ticket  on  him  for 
Life." 

"I  am  sorry  that  you  have  misjudged  me,"  said 
Mr.  Roxworthy,  coldly.  "  I  have  heard  tell  of  these 
gilded  Dumps  where  the  perfumed  Sirens  pivot  on 
the  Toe  and  otherwise  Cavort,  but  I  look  the  other 
way  when  I  pass  one.  In  all  the  Years  since  I  began 
to  hide  a  Surplus,  I  never  once  got  tangled  in  the 
Ribbons  of  a  Jezebel.  If  all  Men  were  like  me,  the 
Head  Waiters  and  Almost-Castles  would  be  in  the 
Poorhouse." 

"I  get  you,"  was  the  reply.  "The  rough  Party  is 
off." 


198  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

"Not  necessarily,"  said  Mr.  Roxworthy,  bright 
ening  up.  "I  know  a  Fellow  Director  of  marvellous 
Capacity  and  extreme  Moral  Turpitude.  I  will  call 
him  up  and  O.  K.  the  Outlay,  and  he  will  take  what 
ever  Steps  are  necessary  to  win  our  Law-Making 
Friend  over  to  the  Side  of  Justice  and  Fair  Play." 

Having  thus  maintained  his  miraculous  Average 
of  batting  1,000  in  the  Purity  League,  Mr.  Rox 
worthy  went  home  to  his  Chipped  Beef  and  Tea, 
with  his  Conscience  clear  and  a  Heart  like  that  of  a 
Little  Child. 

It  '  .  I  seemed  on  Saturday  that  every  one  was 
trying  to  annoy  the  Kind  Gentleman. 

In  one  of  the  Plants  he  helped  to  operate,  the 
murmurs  of  Discontent  had  crescendoed  to  a  Mob 
Scene. 

The  Employees  wanted  in  on  the  Velvet. 

Mr.  Roxworthy  found  at  his  office  a  glowering 
bunch  of  Unionites  with  a  square- jawed  Walking 
Delegate  at  their  head. 

Oh,  how  Mr.  Roxworthy  disliked  Walking  Dele 
gates!  He  preferred  gentle  Characters  that  would 
take  the  Halter. 

The  men  left  an  ugly  Ultimatum,  and  then  a  Dele 
gation  of  Social  Workers  came  in  to  plead  for  the 
Women  and  Children  employed  at  the  Works,  claim 
ing  that  they  were  underpaid  and  not  properly  safe 
guarded  as  to  Moral  Welfare  and  Physical  Comfort. 

It  was  the  Old  Story — a  lot  of  Outsiders  trying  to 
filch  the  Profits  of  Honest  Enterprise. 


STRAIGHT  AND  NARROW  PATH     199 

Mr  Roxworthy  sent  for  the  Superintendent  and 
asked  how  about  it. 

"Well,  the  Men  are  strongly  organized,"  was 
the  Reply.  "If  they,  walk  out,  it's  'Good-Night, 
Myrtle/  for  us.  Give  the  Men  their  Raise.  We 
can  afford  to  do  it  under  the  new  Boost  in  Prices, 
provided  we  don't  have  to  increase  the  Pay-Roil  in 
the  cheaper  Departments.  The  Women  and  Kids 
have  no  Organization  and  can  be  handled." 

Some  quick  work  with  the  Pencil  convinced  the 
Captain  of  Industry  that  he  could  compromise  and 
still  pull  down  a  lovely  Return. 

His  Better  Nature  asserted  itself  and  he  gave  his 
faithful  Men  Employees  a  nice  Raise  and  wondered 
if  it  would  get  into  the  Papers. 

It  is  Saturday  Evening. 

Sitting  before  the  Grate,  with  an  Apple  at  his 
Elbow,  and  reviewing  a  week  of  Combat  with  the 
Philistines  and  those  who  live  in  Outer  Darkness, 
who  could  blame  Mr.  Roxworthy  if  he  seemed  to  feel 
a  Halo  resting,  light  as  a  Nimbus,  upon  his  leathery 
Brow? 

Or  who  will  deny  the  Statement,  made  to  the  Bible 
Class  on  the  subsequent  Morning,  that  those  who  obey 
the  Precepts  seem  to  find  a  Special  Guidance  to  the 
delectable  Pastures,  where  Milk  is  ever  on  Tap  and 
Honey  may  be  had  by  those  who  know  how  to  get  it? 

Moral:  Restrictive  Regulations  are  made  to  jack  up 
the  Wicked  and  not  to  inconvenience  the  Righteous. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  FILM-FED  FAMILY 

ON  A  desirable  Corner  of  the  Yappian  Way 
glistened  the  Abode  of  the  Wiggamores. 
It  had  started  out  to  be  a  Bungalow  but 
bulged  into  a  Swiss  Chalet  at  one  End. 

The  Main  Stem  and  loving  Provider  for  the 
Domestic  Plant  was  one  Alpheus  Wiggamore,  a  nice 
Man  who  still  wore  Alpaca  in  the  Open  Season. 

Mrs.  Wiggamore  was  the  Lady  Superintendent  of 
the  Works.  She  was  slightly  Gray,  having  strained 
herself  through  many  years  trying  to  keep  Cases  on 
the  World  of  Feminism. 

Randolph  was  the  first- born.  He  was  employed 
in  a  Bank,  and  had  been  photographed  while  wearing 
a  Dress  Suit. 

The  daughter  had  been  christened  Maidie,  so  as 
to  save  her  from  being  a  Dorothy.  When  she  was 
19  she  sported  jet  Ear-Bobs  and  was  undecided 
between  being  a  Barefoot  Dancer  or  a  Trained 
Nurse. 

Then  there  was  Kid  Brother  who  spent  much 
time  sitting  low  in  his  Chair  and  brooding  darkly 
while  Randolph  and  Maidie  told  the  Parents  what 
to  do  by  way  of  regulating  That  Boy. 

Christine,  the  combination  Cook,  Housemaid  and 
200 


THE  FILM-FED  FAMILY 

Division  Superintendent,  was  an  imported  Luxury 
and  a  natural  Blonde. 

Not  overlooking  Mr.  Bucyrus  Dunwell,  who,  at 
irregular  Intervals,  approached  via  the  Alley  to  rat 
tle  the  Furnace  or  push  his  little  Safety  over  the 
Sward. 

Now  you  have  the  Colony  as  it  itemized  not  many 
Snows  ago,  on  a  certain  Morning  when  Christine 
went  forth  for  guaranteed  Eggs  and  came  back  with 
a  hot  slice  of  News. 

She  reported  that  the  Sweepers  and  Scrubbers 
were  busy  around  the  Paupers'  Home  and  somebody 
else  was  getting  ready  to  have  dealings  with  the 
Sheriff. 

You  must  know  that  although  the  Avenue  on 
which  the  Wiggamores  fronted  was  very  Kaswozzle 
and  Ipskalene,  the  Domicile  was  only  one  Block  re 
moved  from  a  Side  Street  given  over  to  narrow- 
chested  Shops,  imitation  Modistes,  and  now  and 
then  a  White  Coffin  in  a  Show  Window. 

Just  around  the  Corner  in  this  benumbed  and 
backward  Byway  was  a  squat  Building  with  a  Plate- 
Glass  front  and  an  Interior  copied  from  one  of  the 
McAdoo  Tunnels. 

The  older  Children  could  remember  when  the 
place  was  a  Delicatessen,  with  Dill  Pickles  and 
Goose  Livers  set  out  to  tantalize  Passers-By. 

After  Creditors  snuffed  out  the  haggard  Foreigner, 
a  Placard  appeared  in  the  Window  urging  some 
other  Hero  to  have  a  Go  at  the  Desirable  Location. 


202  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Under  the  glorious  law  of  Supply  and  Demand, 
there  is  a  Soft  Mark  waiting  to  nibble  at  every  Jonah 
Proposition. 

The  Tailor  Man  came  with  his  Bolts  of  Blue  Serge 
and  large  framed  Pictures  of  wooden-faced  Willies 
exhibiting  the  decrees  of  Fashion. 

When  he  evaporated,  the  come-on  Card  in  the 
Window  played  a  Return  Engagement,  whereupon  a 
Tonsorial  Artist  dropped  from  the  Blue  and  began 
to  buzz  around.  He  figured  that  the  Street  needed 
another  Shaving  Parlour,  because  sometimes  as 
many  as  eight  People  could  be  seen  moving  hither 
and  thither  at  one  time.  So  he  displayed  the  Na 
tional  Colours  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  Rush. 
Finally  two  men  came  in.  One  sold  Hair  Tonics  and 
the  other  was  a  Collector. 

The  world  seems  strangely  supplied  with  Persons 
of  low-burning  Ambition  who  wish  to  sell  Daily 
Papers  and  free-smoking  Five-Centers  in  the  placid 
outlying  Districts,  where  the  Dealer  is  seldom  an 
noyed  by  prying  Purchasers. 

After  the  Barber  Shop  died,  for  want  of  Conversa 
tion,  another  Wanamaker  of  the  smallest  known 
Caliber  grabbed  the  Lease  and  got  ready  to  carry 
on  a  brisk  traffic  in  Peppermint  Drops  and  Briar 
Pipes.  By  spreading  his  Merchandise,  he  made  the 
Interior  look  like  a  Place  which  was  offering  Things 
for  Sale. 

Although  the  Proprietor  put  in  many  Hours  shak 
ing  the  Box  with  the.  Larrikins  and  Hooligans,  he 


THE  FILM-FED  FAMILY  203 

could  not  seem  to  get  into  the  Commercial  Stride 
of  the  late  Marshall  Field. 

When  he  blew,  the  Assets  could  have  been  taken 
away  in  a  Wheelbarrow. 

One  of  the  regular  Topics  around  the  quiet  Corner 
was  the  Jinx  that  seemed  to  hover  over  Number 
Thirteen. 

Even  the  bright  Lad  who  put  in  two  Pool- 
Tables  and  charged  2|  cents  a  Cue  fell  by  the 
Wayside. 

For  several  years  the  ill-starred  Premises  contin 
ued  a  Rotation  which  included  Opening-Up,  Closing- 
Tip,  and  the  little  old  Card  in  the  Window. 

Now  you  will  understand  why  Christine  got  a 
Big  Laugh  from  the  Wiggamores  when  she  came 
back  from  her  Scouting  and  reported  that  one  more 
Unfortunate  was  going  to  tackle  the  Cavern  of 
Blasted  Hopes. 

But  you  should  have  heard  the  incredulous  Cack 
les  next  Day  when  Kid  Brother  pulled  the  astounding 
Bulletin  that  a  Guy  with  a  plaid  Ulster  was  con 
verting  the  Mausoleum  into  a  Nickel  Theater. 

Both  Mr.  Wiggamore  and  Randolph,  being  very 
Cooney  and  far-sighted  in  a  Business  Way,  opined 
that  any  poor  Nizzy  who  thought  he  could  operate  a 
Theater  in  a  Delicatessen  was  just  about  due  to  be 
gin  looking  out  through  an  iron  Fence. 

Word  came  to  the  wondering  Wiggamores  that 
the  brash  Intruder  had  hung  a  Screen  at  one  end  of 
his  cramped  Cubby-Hole  and  was  flashing  Animated 


204  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Pictures  of  brutal  Low  Comedy  Alternated  with 
Cowboy  Murders. 

To  a  Family  that  patronized  the  Circulating 
Library  and  fell  for  an  annual  Lecture  Course,  the 
Magic-Lantern  Trick  in  the  undersized  Storeroom 
was  about  two  miles  beyond  the  Pale  and  absolute 
Zero  in  the  register  of  Intellectual  Refreshments. 

Besides,  the  Wiggamores  did  not  see  the  use  of 
any  one  going  to  the  Theater,  since  Joe  Jefferson 
no  longer  played  Rip  Van  Winkle. 

Kid  Brother  took  formal  Notice  that  he  would  be 
skinned  alive  if  caught  anywhere  near  the  fuzzy 
little  Show  Shop;  so  he  was  not  caught,  but  he 
went  against  the  Pictures  every  time  he  could  dig  up 
a  Jit. 

The  bewildering  and  transfiguring  Developments 
in  and  around  the  Wiggamore  Settlement  probably 
had  their  definite  Beginning  on  the  Day  when  the 
Senior  paused  at  the  Corner  and  noticed  that  the 
Peanut  Parlour  of  Pseudo-Art,  instead  of  popping 
like  a  Toy  Balloon,  according  to  Prediction,  had 
absorbed  a  Gents'  Furnishing  Emporium  and  was 
blossoming  out  with  a  Double  Front  rivalling  the 
Architectural  Splendours  of  the  Taj  Mahal. 

It  was  some  Jolt  to  the  Prophet. 

Mr.  Wiggamore  was  a  true  Yank,  ready  to  give 
his  polite  Salaam  to  any  Game  that  could  start  the 
Berries  to  falling  into  the  Basket. 

If  a  Pin-Head  in  a  Plaid  Ulster  could  take  a 
Hoodoo  Location  in  a  Comatose  Neighbourhood 


The  Peanut-Parlour  of  Pseudo-Art  instead  of  popping 
like  a  Toy  Balloon,  according  to  Prediction,  had  absorbed 
a  Gents'  Furnishing  Emporium  and  was  blossoming  out 
with  a  Double  Front  rivalling  the  Architectural  Splendours 
of  the  Taj  Mahal 


205 


206  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

and  pull  down  real  Velvet,  it  was  a  Cinch  that  he  had 
a  sure-fire  Commodity. 

While  Mr.  Wiggamore  was  pondering  whether 
he  could  horn  into  the  Gift  Enterprise  without  en 
dangering  his  Church  Membership,  the  Missus  came 
home  all  het  and  strung  up,  because  she  had  been  put 
on  a  Committee  to  investigate  the  Movies. 

You  can  gamble  that  any  Activity  appealing  to 
the  Investors  and  the  Reformers,  simultaneous-like, 
is  not  to  be  overlooked. 

Mrs.  Wiggamore  thought  she  was  slumming  when 
she  first  descended  upon  the  Cinemas,  accompanied 
by  two  other  Joans  of  Arc,  all  breathing  heavily. 

In  order  to  make  their  Report  comprehensive, 
they  had  to  inspect  about  1,000,000  Feet  of  Film, 
and  they  never  hurried  out  of  any  Dump  until  the 
Fellow  and  the  Girl  came  to  the  final  Clinch  and 
slowly  melted  away  into  Polka-Dots  and  Bobbles. 

They  first  endured,  then  pitied,  and  then  ate  it  up 
as  fast  as  the  Boy  could  push  it  out  of  the  Projector. 

After  Mrs.  Wiggamore  and  the  associate  She 
Martyrs  had  been  on  the  Job  for  two  weeks,  hot-foot 
ing  from  the  Elite  to  the  Arcadia  and  thence  to  the 
Paragon,  the  Rosebud  and  the  Elegantine,  they  were 
so  used  to  sitting  in  the  Dusk  and  watching  several 
forms  of  Excitement  pop  out  on  the  White  Curtain 
that  they  became  restless  if  compelled  to  take  a  day 
off. 

They  reported  to  the  Club  that  the  new  form  of 
Amusement  played  up  Hugging  and  Kissing,  com- 


THE  FILM-FED  FAMILY  207 

plicated  with  Gun-Play,  and  might  serve  to  demor 
alize  any  Weakling  under  the  Age  of  16  or  over  42. 

Still,  it  struck  them  that  the  Movies  could  be 
given  an  Educational  Twist  if  censored  by  Ladies  of 
Intense  Refinement. 

They  showed  a  Willingness  to  buckle  down 
and  continue  their  Investigation,  even  if  they 
had  to  catch  every  important  Reel  the  day  it  was 
released. 

Wliile  the  Lady  of  the  House  was  all  fussed  over 
the  Moral  Aspect  of  the  spreading  Contagion,  her 
respected  Side-Partner  got  rid  of  his  Qualms  and 
butted  right  into  the  Show  Business. 

The  last  Qualm  went  flickering  when  a  gabby 
Promoter  proved  to  Mr.  Wiggamore  that  the  Movie 
Game,  to  those  who  got  in  on  the  Ground  Floor, 
was  just  like  shooting  Fish  in  a  Barrel. 

So  the  Pillar  of  the  Church  took  a  slice  of  Stock 
and  became  part  Owner  of  two  Ballyhoo-Joints,  with 
screaming  Lithos  in  Front  and  somebody  inside 
trying  to  kill  a  Piano. 

Long  before  the  Wrife  put  her  O.  K.  on  the  Silent 
Drama,  the  old  Fox  looked  at  his  share  of  the  Split- 
Up  and  decided  that  any  Game  so  profitable  couldn't 
be  real  Sinful. 

Daughter  began  to  slip  when  she  passed  one  of  the 
dinky  Dime  Places  and  saw  staring  from  a  One- 
Sheet  the  name  of  a  prodigious  Star  residing  in 
Europe. 

She  dared  some  of  the  other  Tessies  to  look  in,  just 


208  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

for  a  Lark,  and  discovered  that  several  were  already 
broken  out  with  the  Habit. 

After  she  had  trailed  in  with  the  Shop  Girls  a  few 
times  without  seeming  to  put  any  Chips,  Cracks,  or 
Blemishes  on  her  Social  Rating,  she  just  let  herself  go 
and  became  a  Fan. 

Although  a  Bank  Clerk  who  is  trying  to  live  up  to 
his  first  Spats  can  be  almost  as  Aloof  and  Unemo 
tional  as  a  Corporation  Lawyer,  even  Randolph 
began  to  size  up  the  Billing  as  he  came  homeward. 

If  he  spotted  a  Society  Drama  with  a  big-eyed 
Queen  recoiling  from  Harold  Armytage,  he  would  find 
himself  strolling  down  that  way  along  about  7 :30. 

It  was  a  Pipe  that  Christine  went  plumb  off  her 
Noodle  as  soon  as  she  learned  that,  by  giving  up  a 
mere  Pinch  of  Change,  she  could  witness  a  lovely 
Scene  in  the  Death-Chamber  with  all  the  Actors 
weeping. 

Mr.  Bucyrus  Dunwell,  manage  of  the  Furnace  and 
Lawn  departments  and  dispenser  of  Neighbourhood 
Gossip,  brought  in  daily  Tips  which  Christine  passed 
on  to  the  front  of  the  House. 

Mr.  Dunwell  had  the  number  of  every  rising  Star 
in  the  new  Firmament.  He  professed  a  Brotherly 
knowledge  of  Doug  and  Charley  Comic,  and  just  the 
same  as  discovered  Mary  Pickford. 

Two  years  after  the  despised  Delicatessen  became 
a  Temple  of  Art,  the  Wiggamores  had  the  range  on 
no  less  than  five  Photo-Bazaars  within  a  mile  of  their 
residential  Headquarters. 


THE  FILM-FED  FAMILY  209 

When  they  rallied  for  their  daily  Grape-Fruit,  did 
they  speculate  on  the  Situation  in  Europe? 

No,  ma'am.  They  compared  Notes  to  find  out 
which  had  grabbed  off  the  largest  number  of  Goose 
Pimples  and  Giggles  while  out  Film  Hopping  the 
night  before. 

The  old  standby  Newspaper,  noted  for  its  Powerful 
Editorials  ever  since  the  days  of  Hayes  and  Wheeler, 
seemed  to  be  going  dippy  with  the  rest  of  the  Outfit. 

Instead  of  staying  on  the  regular  job  of  panning 
the  Senators  from  the  South,  it  began  running  large 
Half -Tones  of  Lottie  Le  Page,  smiling  ingenue  of  the 
Kafloozem  Company,  Cyril  Paget,  curly-haired 
Darling  of  the  Premier,  and  Bob  Indestructo,  break 
neck  Artist  and  champion  Stair-Slider  of  the  Mattea- 
wan  Service. 

When  the  Wiggamores  pawed  for  the  Journal  of 
Civilization  and  skinned  the  Columns  with  hungry 
Eye,  were  they  after  the  Wall  Street  Forecast  or 
Myrtle  Cerebellum's  Book  Reviews?  Nary  a  Myr 
tle.  They  were  getting  the  very  latest  Info  from  the 
Exchanges  and  laying  out  work  for  the  Evening. 

Mr.  Wiggamore  had  been  an  Omnivorous  Reader 
in  days  agone. 

In  the  placid  Past,  preceding  the  deluge  of  Buzz- 
Dramas,  his  regular  Schedule  was  to  ignite  a  mild 
Domestic  and  groan  a  few  times  before  pushing 
away  from  the  Dinner-Table;  then  a  long  Session 
with  some  Book  that  was  Meaty  and  Historical; 
after  that  a  period  of  Gloating  over  his  Collection  of 


210  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Flies  for  Casting;  possibly  an  Apple,  and  some  tender 
caressing  of  the  Feet  before  he  turned  in. 

But  Literature  and  Fishing-Tackle  lost  their  Drag 
when  he  got  all  snarled  up  with  three  beautiful 
Women,  each  of  whom  was  being  separately  per 
secuted  by  Lions,  Tigers,  Elephants,  Motor-Cars, 
Hydroplanes,  and  Villains  with  Eyebrows. 

It  will  be  five  years,  come  next  House-cleaning, 
since  Ma  Wiggamore  accepted  the  appointment  from 
Madam  President  of  the  Oolong  Uplift  Club  and 
began  to  scrutinize  the  Output. 

Her  Commission  has  expired,  but  she  is  still  on  the 
Job  and  going  along  in  Bogey. 

Just  to  give  you  a  correct  Line  on  a  Good  Woman 
gone  wrong. 

In  the  Spring  of  1910,  shortly  before  the  Kine- 
toscopic  Bacilli  began  to  bite  her,  she  started  to 
crochet  a  kind  of  Dido,  or  Throw,  which  could  be 
pinned  to  the  back  of  a  Chair,  used  as  a  Bath-Mat,  or 
drawn  about  the  Shoulders  on  a  Chilly  Evening.  It 
is  still  unfinished,  and  she  would  not  know  where  to 
find  it  at  this  identical  Minute. 

What  do  you  say  about  a  Young  Fellow,  with  a 
berth  in  a  National  Bank  and  a  swell  chance  to  work 
right  up  and  be  head  Shylock,  who  wants  to  duck  on 
a  Business  Career  and  act  out  in  front  of  a  Camera? 

Randolph  actually  asked  the  Guvnor  to  put  in  a 
Plug  for  him,  so  that  he  could  escape  the  Irks  of 
Office  Toil  and  be  a  regular  Leading  Man  with  Pow 
der  on  the  Face. 


THE  FILM-FED  FAMILY 

There  were  two  or  three  Reasons  why  Randolph 
did  not  become  a  high-salaried  Actor  on  the  order  of 
Jack  Barrymore,  but  he  will  always  believe  that  he 
could  have  put  it  over  the  Plate. 

His  is  what  you  might  term  a  Blighted  Life.  He 
watches  all  the  Late  Stuff  but  the  new  Successes  only 
feed  his  Grief,  because  he  is  thinking  all  the  time  how 
much  niftier  He  would  be  than  the  Stiff  who  takes 
the  Principal  Part. 

Had  you  heard  that  Maidie  Wiggamore  is  writing 
Scenarios  ?  Mercy,  yes !  Oh.  rather ! 

The  Piano  hasn't  been  limbered  up  for  weeks,  and 
she  has  to  be  dragged  to  her  Meals. 

She  has  had  MSS.  returned  from  some  of  the  very 
best  Concerns. 

Also  it  is  Common  Talk  among  her  Friends  that 
several  of  her  Plots  have  been  stolen. 

Refusing  to  take  the  Count,  she  is  still  working 
away  on  a  five-reel  Inspiration  in  which  a  Pure 
Girl  suffers  a  lot  at  the  hands  of  a  Viper  in  a  Riding 
Costume,  but  finally  wins  out  and  slips  him  the 
Gaff. 

It  is  all  New  Stuff  and  will  be  a  Riot  if  she  can  find 
a  Director  to  give  it  a  Belasco  Setting. 

Probably  the  largest  day  in  the  History  of  the 
Tribe  was  that  on  which  the  Troupe  consented  to 
put  the  Wiggamore  House  into  a  two-part  Sob  Special 
called  "Aching  Bosoms." 

With  the  Street  full  of  painted  Thespians,  and 
Mr.  Legree  shouting  through  the  Megaphone,  and 


Probably  ike  largest  day  in  the  History  of  the  Tribe  was 
that  on  which  the  Troupe  consented  to  put  the  Wiggamore 
House  into  a  two-part  Sob  Special  called  "Aching  Bosoms" 


212 


THE  FILM-FED  FAMILY  213 

the  Trusties  winding  their  Boxes,  no  wonder  that  Kid 
Brother  became  the  envy  of  the  Gang. 

Think  of  going  to  the  Columbine  Playhouse  and 
seeing  your  own  Home  standing  out  as  the  Palace  of 
Mortimer  Lonsdale,  the  aristocratic  Parent  of  Celeste, 
who  is  in  love  with  Gerald,  and  a  Pipe  Organ  playing 
softly ! 

There  are  moments  in  Life  that  seem  to  repaj  for  all 
our  Struggles  and  even  up  on  the  myriad  Disappoint 
ments. 

Of  late,  however,  the  Family  has  been  against  it 
plenty. 

Mrs.  Wiggamore  decided  that  someone  should 
hang  around  the  House  in  the  evening  to  see  that  no 
one  carried  it  away. 

She  couldn't  be  a  Night  Watch  and  a  high-brow 
Researcher  at  the  same  time. 

So  she  passed  the  Buck  to  friend  Husband,  who 
handed  it  on  to  the  First-Born,  who  tried  to  wish  it 
on  to  Sis,  who  promptly  decided  that  Kid  Brother 
was  the  Logical  Goat;  but  the  Youngster  had  to  have 
a  couple  of  Melodramas  and  a  slap-stick  Comedy 
every  evening  before  he  could  go  to  Sleep,  the  same 
as  all  the  others,  so  he  nominated  Christine  as  the 
Patsy. 

She  couldn't  unload  on  any  one  else,  so  she  sent  in 
her  Notice  and  left  them  Flat,  rather  than  lose  those 
Happy  Hours  with  her  Ideal,  Bertrand  Blithingham, 
who  always  smiled  right  over  toward  where  she  was 
sitting  as  soon  as  he  walked  out  on  the  Curtain. 


214  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Right  on  top  of  that,  Mr.  Dun  well  worked  into  a 
political  Drama  as  an  Extra.  Down  at  the  Studio  it 
came  out  that  he  was  a  Type;  so  he  was  put  on  the 
Pay-Roll.  Now  he  conies  as  near  being  an  Honest- 
to-Gosh  Actor  as  many  others  toiling  at  the  Celluloid 
Mills. 

The  Wiggamores  are  living  on  Canned  Stuff  and 
the  Lawn  needs  clipping,  but  they  should  fret. 

Two  new  Places  have  just  opened  with  First-Run 
Features,  and  they  are  going  to  have  a  Good  Year, 
no  matter  what  happens  to  the  Stock  Market. 

Moral:  The  Principal  Ingredient  of  real  Entertain 
ment  is  the  Absence  of  Talk. 


THE   FABLE   OF  THE  RIPE   PERSIMMON   AND   THE 
PLUCKED  FLOWER 

ONCE  the  Home  Paper  had  to  announce  that 
a  couple  of  Residents  had  been  wafted  to  the 
dim  Beyond.     Ye  Editor  pulled  out  the 
Tremolo  Stop  and  rendered  a  sentimental  Obbligato 
in  his  Over-the-Rivers  to  Uncle  Philo  Dilbry  and 
Schuyler  Colfax,  alias  "Red,"  Montgomery. 

He  opined  that  Uncle  Philo  had  rounded  out  a 
highly  resultful  Career. 

When  the  Grim  Reaper  swished  his  Sickle,  he 
brought  down  a  very  fine  Specimen  of  ripened  Grain 
that  had  grown  in  the  same  Spot  for  a  long  time  and 
thrown  out  a  lot  of  Capillaries. 

Shifting  the  Record  and  putting  in  a  new  Needle, 
the  Obituarian  went  on  to  liken  the  recent  Old 
Settler  to  a  Ship  that  comes  into  Port  after  a  long  and 
tempestuous  Voyage. 

The  Staunch  Craft  had  withstood  the  howling 
Gales  and  buffeting  Waves  and  finally  had  found 
Anchorage  in  Safety  Harbour,  with  right  smart  of 
Cargo  stowed  away. 

Those  who  had  been  close  to  Uncle  Philo  read 
the  Figurative  Allusions  and  made  the  usual  Dis 
counts. 

215 


216  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

It  seemed  to  them  that  he  had  been  more  like  the 
bearded  Grain  than  the  gallant  Ship. 

A  Canal  Boat?  Yea,  Bo!  It  never  gets  more 
than  8  Feet  from  the  Shore  and  is  built  for  Safety 
rather  than  Speed. 

What  the  weeping  Biographer  wanted  to  convey 
was  that  Uncle  Philo  had  lived  in  the  County  a  long 
time,  had  looked  out  for  Number  One  so  consistently 
that  he  was  simply  crawling  with  Collateral,  had 
never  been  apprehended  by  the  Grand  Jury  or  mixed 
up  with  Untamed  Women;  therefore  his  life  had  been 
a  Glorious  Example. 

Between  the  Lines  one  might  read  that  the  Good 
Citizen  is  he  who  keeps  out  of  the  Calaboose. 

Sweet  Consolation  dripped  from  the  Piece  regard 
ing  Uncle  Philo. 

He  had  continued  to  breathe  for  many  Decades 
and  thereby  had  accomplished  the  main  Purpose  of 
every  Homo  born  into  this  Vale  of  Speculation. 

He  departed  before  the  Estate  was  tapped  for  the 
Inheritance  Tax;  so  everything  seemed  to  work  out 
for  the  Best. 

The  Valedictory  to  "Red"  Montgomery  was  more 
tabloid. 

The  Lad  never  had  loaned  money  at  Eight  per  cent, 
and  so  there  was  mighty  little  to  put  in  the  Paper 
about  him  except  that  the  whole  Community  had 
been  Shocked  to  find  his  Name  in  the  dreaded  black- 
type  List. 

You  could  see  that  the  Editor  wanted  to  give 


THE  RIPE  PERSIMMON  217 

"Red "  a  fair  Shake,  but  what  was  there  to  say  about 
a  Sorrel-Top  who  had  played  a  little  Baseball,  and 
then  some  Football,  and  then  had  messed  around  a 
Small  College  until  the  first  Call  came,  and  then  had 
gone  out  with  grinning  Cheerfulness  to  die  for  his 
Country? 

There  wasn't  a  great  deal  to  add  up  in  the  case  of 
"Red,"  because  the  Kid  never  had  accomplished 
anything  very  definite. 

That  is,  he  never  had  Camped  long  enough  and 
hard  enough  in  one  Place  to  make  an  Impression, 
whereas  Uncle  Philo  had  left  quite  a  Dent. 

"Red"  stepped  beyond  the  Threshold  and  was  cut 
down,  and  his  Taking-Off  was  so  sad  and  heart 
breaking  and  gave  so  little  opening  for  Reflections  of 
a  compensating  Character  that  the  local  Biographer 
rather  threw  up  his  Hands  on  the  Job. 

The  only  Condolence  he  could  manufacture  was 
that  "Red"  had  shown  himself  to  be  a  Game  Guy 
and  a  true  Patriot. 

The  Records  proved  that  Uncle  Philo  had  stayed 
along  until  he  was  82,  while  Schuyler  Colfax  Mont 
gomery  dropped  out  at  the  immature  Age  of  23. 

According  to  the  time-honoured  Mathematical 
Scale  for  the  Measuring  of  Achievements,  Uncle 
Philo  had  it  about  four  ways  on  "Red"  and  finished 
a  dead  heat  with  the  long-tailed  African  Parrot,  which 
lives  to  be  about  80  years  of  Age  and  hands  out  a 
stereotyped  Line  of  Conversation  to  the  last  Gasp. 

The  Preacher  who  was  asked  to  make  a  little 


£18  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Spiel  for  the  late  plunging  Half -Back  was  up  against 
it,  the  same  as  the  Editor,  when  he  sat  down  to  write 
his  Remarks. 

What  was  left  of  "Red"  had  not  been  sent  home. 

A  good  Minister  who  specializes  on  Sob  Stuff  finds 
himself  handicapped  and  short  of  Cues  if  he  cannot 
look  down  at  the  Floral  Tributes  and  the  Silver 
Handles. 

The  Dominie  somehow  felt  that  it  was  up  to  him 
to  pull  something  besides  the  sure-fire  Hokum  about 
a  brilliant  Career  being  headed  off  and  the  Ways  of 
an  all-wise  Providence  being  beyond  mortal  Ken. 

It  happened  that  the  Parson  had  the  Courage  to  be 
candid  and  the  Vision  to  see  beyond  the  Township 
Limits. 

It  came  to  him  that  when  they  had  the  Special 
Service  for  "Red"  it  might  be  a  bright  Idea  to  can 
all  the  Weeps  and  ring  the  Bells. 

For  it  was  "Red"  who  had  rounded  out  a  full 
Career,  and  it  was  Uncle  Philo  who  had  been  pre 
maturely  snatched  away. 

Just  to  prove  that  even  a  Funeral  Sermon  may  be 
invested  with  the  Charm  of  Novelty,  here  is  what  the 
Vicar  handed  out  to  the  hushed  Assemblage : 


We  find  our  text  in  the  "Encyclopaedia  Britan- 
nica,"  under  the  heading  of  "Longevity." 

It  reads  as  follows:  "There  is  a  species  of  large 
Tortoise,  found  in  the  Galapagos  Islands,  which  is 
known  to  live  over  200  years." 


THE  RIPE  PERSIMMON 

In  the  same  Chapter,  and  throwing  side-lights  on 
our  Theme,  we  read  that  Buffon  was  personally 
acquainted  with  a  Carp  that  was  150  years  old,  and 
it  is  a  common  Belief  among  Scientists  that  Whales 
continue  to  operate  in  a  perfectly  cold-blooded 
manner,  unhampered  by  altruistic  Considerations, 
for  several  Centuries. 

Within  the  week  we  have  planted  an  old  Residenter 
who  was  a  familiar  Figure  on  the  Depot  Platform. 

His  Demise  calls  attention  to  the  Fact  that,  when  it 
comes  to  hanging  on,  the  Crab  can  show  some  Class 
along  with  the  Carp  and  the  Tortoise  and  the  Whale. 

Many  of  you  have  made  doleful  Comparisons 
between  the  Symmetrical  and  extended  Life-Span  of 
Uncle  Philo  Dilbry  and  the  abbreviated,  unfinished 
Mission  on  Earth  of  our  Young  Friend  commonly 
known  as  "Red"  Montgomery. 

If  it  grieves  you  to  reflect  that  Uncle  Philo  was 
here  eighty-odd  years,  while  "Red"  stayed  just  long 
enough  to  cast  his  first  Vote,  what  Anguish  must  you 
experience  when  you  consider  that  a  careful  Carp  has 
70  years'  Edge  on  Uncle  Philo,  and  the  Tortoise  on 
Galapagos  Island  skins  him  by  120  years,  and  a 
Whale  that  takes  any  care  of  himself  puts  Uncle 
Philo  away  back  into  the  Infant  Mortality  class ! 

The  comparison  between  these  various  long-lived 
Specimens  becomes  more  Significant  when  we  note 
various  Points  of  Resemblance. 

Uncle  Philo,  like  the  Carp  and  the  Tortoise  and 
the  Whale,  gave  undivided  attention  to  his  own 


220  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Sustenance  and  Welfare,  was  coldly  indifferent  to 
Public  Improvements,  never  showed  a  voluntary 
Interest  in  a  Liberty  Loan,  and  never  recognized  the 
necessity  of  either  the  Red  Cross  or  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 

Like  these  other  perennial  members  of  the  Animal 
Kingdom,  he  was  strong  for  his  own  Habitat  and 
sought  for  himself  such  Environment  as  favours 
Perpetuity. 

He  avoided  the  Dangers  incident  to  Travel  and 
Rash  Adventure,  never  wandering  from  his  own 
Precinct  after  the  Railways  stopped  giving  Passes 
to  those  who  ship  Live  Stock. 

He  has  been  much  lauded,  since  his  Departure, 
because  he  was  Cautious  and  Conservative. 

For  82  years  he  never  took  his  Foot  off  of  Second 
Base. 

If  there  be  among  you  any  who  figure  that  dear 
old  Uncle  Philo,  with  the  soap-stone  Eye  and  the 
leaky  Whiskers,  had  no  Occasion  to  envy  the  Carp 
or  the  Tortoise  or  the  Whale,  let  us  adopt  the  same 
Course  of  Reasoning  and  ask  if  the  Mortal  Existence 
of  any  Being  can  be  measured  by  a  Yard  Stick  or 
weighed  on  the  Platform  Scales? 

Shall  we  count  the  Ticks  of  the  Clock  or  shall  we 
take  into  account  merely  the  High  Spots? 

Is  it  better  to  eat  three  Squares  a  day  for  a  great 
many  Days  and  be  true  to  the  same  Mattress  all  the 
Time,  or  go  down  the  Highway  of  Experience  for  just 
a  few  days,  blowing  a  Silver  Bugle? 

I  hare  no  desire  to  knock  Uncle  Philo  to  those  who 


221 


222  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

had  a  Mortgage  Acquaintance  with  him,  but  I  am 
wondering  if  he  had  as  much  on  the  Carp  and  the 
Tortoise  and  the  Whale  as  "Red"  Montgomery  had 
on  him. 

I  learn  that  "Red"  once  carried  the  Ball  55  yards 
for  a  Touch-Down,  while  5,000  of  his  Fellow-Crea 
tures  stood  on  their  Hind  Legs  and  shrieked  his 
darling  Name. 

You  know  that  when  most  of  the  Burlies  were 
praying  for  Leaky  Valves  and  Flat  Feet,  "Red" 
Montgomery  had  his  Hat  off  and  his  Hand  in  the 
Air,  offering  his  Flag  all  that  he  had  to  give  and  a 
little  sore  that  he  couldn't  give  more. 

I  happen  to  know  that  the  most  adorable  Girl  in 
all  the  World  leaned  up  against  his  Khaki  Coat  and 
gave  the  Boy  a  Look  such  as  Uncle  Philo  never  got 
during  the  whole  82  years. 

You  all  have  heard  that  the  Charge  which  he  led 
across  the  muddy  Craters  and  through  the  tangled 
Wire  did  not  fail.  He  dropped  out,  but  he  saw  the 
Men  go  on. 

I  hold  that  he  who  makes  a  Touch-Down  and  then 
enlists  and  holds  the  Woman  of  his  Choice  in  his 
Arms,  and  then  goes  through  Hell-Fire  to  carry  a 
Trench,  has  hit  the  High  Spots  to  which  I  referred  a 
short  time  ago  and  that  his  Life  has  not  been 
Brief. 

Is  it  not  better  to  deliver  a  Pinch  Hit  in  a  World's 
Series  than  to  sit  on  the  Bench  for  5  years? 

Behold  the  Aviator  circling  a  White  Cloud  and, 


THE  RIPE  PERSIMMON 

three  thousand  feet  below  him,  the  Yokel  seated  on 
a  creaking  Wagon ! 

The  Flyer  does  as  Many  miles  in  an  Hour  as  the 
Teamster  would  do  in  a  Week. 

He  sees  10,000  times  as  much  of  the  Landscape  and 
breathes  a  new  and  tonic  Air,  and  yet  we  still  find 
Individuals,  pretending  to  be  People,  who  believe 
that  a  Day's  Journey  means  riding  from  Morning  to 
Night  in  a  Prairie  Schooner ! 

What  Edison  shall  yet  invent  a  Meter  so  delicately 
responsive  that  we  may  find  out  how  a  bold  Example 
affects  the  laggard  Aspirations  of  those  who  came  up 
against  it? 

Every  time  "Red'*  Montgomery  walked  out  on 
the  hammered  Turf  of  an  Athletic  Field,  he  preached 
a  Sermon  for  clean  Living  and  self-denying  Habits 
and  the  Courage  that  knows  no  faltering. 

After  he  got  into  his  Soldier  Togs,  who  could  look 
at  those  square  Shoulders  and  the  beaming  Freckles 
and  that  beautiful  bulge  of  Chest  without  feeling  a 
new  Pride  in  what  we  call  our  Native  Land  and  a 
reinforced  Desire  to  be  of  Service? 

Slackers  looked  at  him  and  inquired  the  nearest 
way  to  a  Recruiting  Station. 

Young  Women  watched  him  up  the  Street  and  then 
hurried  to  roll  Surgical  Dressings. 

Prosperous  Speculators,  extensive  as  to  Girth  and 
short  of  Breath,  sized  him  up  as  One  beyond  them 
and  superior,  entitled  to  such  Backing  as  mere  Dol 
lars  can  provide. 


224 


THE  RIPE  PERSIMMON  225 

Can  we  doubt  that  the  tempered  Steel  of  his 
Resolution  made  the  Thrust  effective,  even  when  his 
Comrades  had  to  leave  him  behind? 

By  way  of  playful  Comparison,  what  was  the  gen 
eral  Effect  when  Uncle  Phik>  was  seen  starting  out 
on  some  Errand  of  utilitarian  intent? 

Young  and  old  alike  observed,  "  Ah,  this  is  the  day 
when  some  unsuspecting  Geezer  gets  it  in  the  Cer 
vical  Vertebrae !" 

If  you  can  follow  me  further  without  getting  a 
Headache,  let  us  think  of  each  earthly  Transient  as  a 
Weaver. 

I  don't  know  what  Warp  and  Woof  mean,  but  they 
are  old  Standbys  and  here  is  where  I  work  them  in. 

We  see  a  Weaver  at  his  Loom  Day  after  Day, 
through  a  long  Period,  say  80  Years  or  more. 

He  is  Johnny-on-the-Spot  at  Sunup  and  camps  on 
the  Job  until  the  Whistle  blows. 

Let  us  give  him  Credit  for  Industry  and  Patience, 
but  let  us  not  hang  any  Medals  on  him  until  we 
examine  his  Output. 

He  throws  the  Shuttle  back  and  forth,  Day  after 
Day,  Week  after  Week,  Month  after  Month,  Year 
after  Year,  and  turns  out  Bundles  and  Bales  and 
Wagon-Loads  of  Burlap. 

He  is  responsible  for  a  slew  of  moderately  useful 
Product,  but  it  is  all  Burlap — unpoetical,  loose-woven 
Burlap. 

If  you  could  have  your  Wish,  wouldn't  you  rather 
weave  something  besides  No.  3  Sacking? 


226  HAND-MADE  FABLER 

How  about  the  Artist  Workman  whose  only  Handi 
work  is  one  Banner,  but  the  Texture  is  Silk  and  the 
Colour  is  Royal  Purple  and  the  flaring  Design  in  the 
centre  is  of  the  rarest  Cloth  of  Gold? 

The  Weaver  leaves  his  Loom  and  carries  his  match 
less  Oriflamme  up  to  a  bold  Peak  and  plants  it  there 
so  that  those  who  are  in  the  Valleys  may  look  up  and 
be  inspired  and  learn  that  the  World  is  not  all  Bur 
lap. 

If  you  get  me,  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  make  in 
sulting  Local  Application  as  to  which  of  the  recently 
Departed  worked  on  Burlap  and  which  one  placed  a 
Standard  on  the  Heights. 

My  friends,  there  is  no  intangible  Item  so  con 
temptuous  of  Weights  and  Measures  as  the  Lapse  of 
Time  between  the  Birth  Certificate  and  the  Death 
Certificate. 

Some  of  you  may  still  harbour  the  Delusion  that 
"Red"  Montgomery  lived  to  be  only  23  years  of  Age 
while  Uncle  Philo  Dilbry  lived  nearly  four  times  as 
long. 

I  now  advance  the  unusual  Proposition  that  we  are 
not  Living  unless  Something  happens. 

There  are  condensed  Days  and  diluted  Days. 

From  that  Autumn  Afternoon  on  which  "Red" 
Montgomery  became  a  Gridiron  Hero,  all  of  his 
Days  were  extra-condensed. 

He  placed  the  Experiences  of  an  ordinary  slow 
poke  Year  into  one  Week. 

By    a    simple    Gilbert    and    Sullivan    process    of 


THE  RIPE  PERSIMMON  227 

Computation,  we  know  that  "Red"  Montgomery 
lived  200  years  before  he  went  West. 

We  also  know  that  the  Angels  came  out  half-way 
to  meet  him  and  pat  him  on  the  Back. 

In  conclusion,  we  may  reasonably  believe  that 
when  he  was  lying  in  No  Man's  Land,  if  he  had  any 
time  to  make  a  swift  Review,  he  did  not  regret  that 
he  had  been  a  Regular  Person,  and  he  did  not  wish 
that  the  Lord  had  made  him  a  Carp  or  a  Tortoise  or  a 
Whale  or  even  Uncle  Philo  Dilbry. 

The  next  day  after  the  Services,  certain  Relatives 
aifd  Beneficiaries  of  a  highly  respected  Citizen,  now 
in  the  Probate  Court,  called  the  Preacher  almost 
everything  except  a  Pro-German. 

Moral — //  isn't  how  long  you  Stick  Around  but  what 
you  Put  Over  while  you  are  here. 


THE  FABLE  OF  WHAT  THE  BEST  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT 
DOING 

rONE   of  the  countless  Honeycombs    of   an 
)ffice  Building  sat  a  General  Manager. 
He  had  a  tasteful  Rug  spread  under  him.  His 
Finger  Nails  were  shiny.     One  would  have  said, 
after  a  quick  size-up  of  this  well-groomed  Executive, 
that  here  was  a  Ganook  for  whom  Luck  was  break 
ing  very  nicely. 

It  is  true  that  he  received  a  peachy  Check  every 
Month.  He  earned  it  by  sitting  in  a  Swivel  Chair 
and  answering  the  'Phone.  When  he  felt  unusually 
keen  and  ready  to  grapple  with  Details,  he  would 
dictate  crisp  Letters  beginning  thus :  "Yours  received, 
and  in  reply  would  say." 

The  pale-faced  Subs  in  the  outer  Room  trembled 
at  sight  of  him  and  the  Elevators  waited  for  him. 
The  Chief  should  have  been  Content  with  his  Lot; 
but  was  he?  Not  so  that  you  could  notice  it.  He 
was  bleeding  inwardly. 

In  the  first  place,  his  name  was  Elmer  Floozey, 
which  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  live  down.  Also,  he 
had  a  Past.  He  had  come  to  his  present  Exalted 
StatioD  from  a  Tank  Town  via  the  Shorthand  Col 
lege. 

228 


WHAT  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  DOING     229 

Mr.  Floozey  could,  at  a  Moment's  Notice,  take 
an  ordinary  Lead  Pencil  and  make  a  List  of  at  least 
40  Blood  Relatives  who  wore  Suspenders  in  the 
Summer-Time  and  inhaled  from  the  Saucer. 

He  had  toiled  to  the  grass-crowned  summit  of  the 
Long  Hill,  but  his  Shoes  were  still  full  of  Gravel. 

Elmer  had  an  aching  Desire  to  be  a  Regular  Fel 
low. 

No  one  had  tipped  it  off  to  him  that  a  steel-blue 
Gentleman  of  the  Beacon  Hill  Type  has  to  be  evolved 
by  a  laborious  Burbank  Process  through  several 
Generations. 

He  believed  that  any  Onion  could,  by  Concentra 
tion  and  Perseverance,  make  itself  an  Apricot.  He 
Hugged  the  delusion  that  he  could  cut  across  Lots 
and  catch  up  with  the  Drum-Major. 

The  prize  he  sought  was  the  privilege  of  sitting 
down  on  terms  of  Equality  with  the  Bashaws  and 
the  Hidalgos. 

In  order  to  qualify,  he  had  his  Eyes  wide  open, 
his  Fingers  crossed,  and  his  Muscles  set,  and  was 
trying  to  refrain  from  doing  anything  that  was  not 
being  done  by  our  Best  People. 

He  had  a  moderate  hunger  for  Wealth  and  a 
laudable  willingness  to  splurge  in  a  Commercial 
Way,  but  the  solemn  and  consecrated  resolve  which 
governed  every  Move  related  to  membership  in  a 
Club. 

It  was  not  a  large  Club  and  it  was  housed  in  a 
made-oyer  Mansion  of  the  darkest  Mansard  Period, 


230  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

but  Mr.  Floozey  wanted  to  be  seen  lolling  in  a  leather 
Chair  by  the  Window. 

Most  of  the  Lollers  exhibited  at  the  Windows  rep 
resented  what  a  Society  Gusheress  would  call  the 
Old  Families,  or  the  Hoopteree.  Their  remote 
Ancestors  had  trapped  Muskrats  on  the  site  of  the 
present  City  Hall.  Also,  these  revered  Forefathers 
had  traded  with  the  Indians,  after  getting  them 
Stewed. 

Mr.  Floozey 's  father  had  kept  a  Hardware  Store 
with  Agricultural  Implements  as  a  Side  Line,  so  Mr. 
Floozey  knew  that  he  would  have  to  step  a  Bit  to 
overtake  a  bunch  of  Patricians  tracing  their  Pedi 
grees  right  back  to  the  time  when  four  City  Blocks 
could  be  secured  for  a  cannikin  of  Medford  Rum. 

Elmer  was  crafty.  He  observed  that  the  Climber 
and  the  Pusher  never  had  a  look  in.  It  was  possible 
for  the  Self-Advertiser  or  the  Spender  to  butt  into 
one  kind  of  Club  Life  and  dapple  the  fair  pages  of 
the  Evening  Paper  with  pleasant  mention  of  Him 
self,  but  these  crude  Methods  cut  no  Asparagus  with 
the  Landed  Gentry. 

The  one  chance  for  a  poor  Goof  of  the  Floozey 
Species  was  to  keep  on  doing  the  Correct  Thing  and 
comport  himself  after  the  manner  of  a  Chevalier  and 
wait  for  Merit  to  be  Discovered.  So  the  General 
Manager  was  straining  himself  to  do  only  the  Things 
that  were  being  Done. 

We  find  him  at  his  massive  desk,  trying  to  hold 
back  the  salty  Tears.  He  had  just  concluded  a  brief 


mm mi  /lilPfiSH       lii 


231 


232  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Business  Talk  with  a  Gentleman  of  the  deepest  dye 
whose  Grandfather  put  the  Scenery  along  the  Erie 
Canal. 

When  the  Caller  affixed  his  proud  Signature  to  a 
Contract,  Mr.  Floozey  observed  that  his  Nails  had 
been  done  in  the  Dull  Finish.  The  Visitor  departed, 
and  Mr.  Floozey  was  left  alone  with  his  own  Finger- 
Nails,  which  had  been  burnished  until  they  fairly 
twinkled. 

He  was  In  Wrong  again. 

It  was  proving  to  be  a  long  and  slow  Battle. 

No  wonder.  For  Mr.  Floozey  had  started  with  a 
two-ton  Handicap. 

Mr.  Floozey  could  remember  the  early  Hick 
period  of  his  Genesis,  when  he  oiled  his  Hair  and 
wore  Cameos. 

He  had  come  a  long  Way  since  then,  undoubtedly, 
but  he  still  had  a  lingering  Suspicion  that  he  was 
merely  a  veneered  Rube.  The  Finger-Nail  Episode 
helped  to  confirm  this  Suspicion. 

Back  in  the  Boarding-House  days  he  had  entered 
manfully  on  his  Life  Work  of  eliminating  the  Heredi 
tary  Instincts. 

First,  he  conquered  the  Perfumery  Habit,  and 
then,  by  an  Effort,  he  gave  up  the  silk  Handkerchief 
with  the  vivid  Border. 

While  he  was  still  a  Menial,  he  tried  to  pass  himself 
off  in  the  Street  Cars  as  a  Harvard  Man  home  on  a 
Vacation. 

In  those  days  he  had  longed  to  wear  Socks  with 


WHAT  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  DOING     233 

zigzag  Patterns  peeping  saucily  from  under  the  reefed 
Trousers,  but  he  took  notice  that  the  Lads  who 
lived  in  the  Big  Houses  of  the  Frigid  Zone  went  in 
for  Somber  Effects. 

In  the  effort  to  acquire  the  quiet  and  unobtrusive 
Elegance  which  would  distinguish  him  from  the 
ordinary  Charleys  of  the  Quick-Lunch  Route,  he 
was  compelled  to  shed  his  Jewellery. 

He  had  signalized  the  arrival  on  Easy  Street  by 
purchasing  a  swell  Ring  of  several  Carats  and  a 
Watch  Charm  which  looked  like  the  working  model 
for  a  Memorial  Window. 

These  glittering  Ornaments  seemed  to  impress  the 
Newsboys  and  were  quite  apropos  when  he  stood  in 
front  of  a  Soda  Fountain. 

But  one  day  he  took  Dinner  at  a  Place  frequented 
by  the  Elite.  After  the  Head  Waiter  had  secreted 
him  behind  a  Palm,  he  compared  himself  with  the 
Thoroughbreds  placed  along  the  Windows. 

All  of  them  wore  an  air  of  being  slightly  Bored, 
but  not  one  of  them  was  bedecked  with  expensive 
Gems. 

From  that  day  he  played  Safe,  assuming  the  garb 
of  a  blasS  Undertaker  rather  than  queer  himself  by 
making  up  as  a  prosperous  Crap-Shooter. 

He  became  a  mere  Copy-Cat,  but  he  chose  for  his 
Models  the  acknowledged  Head-liners  of  the  ice 
bound  Elect. 

By  constant  practice  he  learned  to  speak  softly 
to  a  Waiter  without  incidentally  giving  the  Waiter 


After  the  Head  Waiter  had  secreted  him  behind  a  Palm, 
lie  compared  himself  with  the  Thoroughbreds  placed  along 
the  Windows.  All  of  them  wore  an  air  of  being  Bored, 
but  not  one  of  them  was  bedecked  with  expensive  Gems 


234 


WHAT  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  DOING     235 

any  License  to  regard  himself  as  a  Human  Being. 
So  he  was  allowed  to  come  out  from  behind  the 
Palms  and  sit  among  the  Socially  Prominent,  who 
were  still  8,000  Miles  distant,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes. 

He  did  not  seem  to  be  getting  any  closer  to  them 
as  regards  letting  them  know  that  he  was  in  the 
Room.  But  he  was  getting  farther  away  from  the 
Waiter  all  the  time;  so,  naturally,  he  felt  heartened. 

He  had  his  Wardrobe  built  by  a  whispering  Tailor 
who  had  held  the  Tape  Measure  against  all  the  Pinks 
of  Fashion. 

He  took  an  apartment  in  a  highly  refrigerated 
Hotel,  peopled  by  X-Ray  Notables,  so-called  because 
they  could  look  right  through  Mr.  Floozey  at  some 
thing  beyond. 

Although  he  had  been  brought  up  as  a  Shouting 
Methodist,  he  attended  Services  at  a  Church  fre 
quented  by  successful  Bridge  Players.  The  Rector 
looked  like  a  Leading  Man  with  an  English  Dramatic 
Company  and  had  a  Marmalade  Accent. 

Elmer  thought  he  w^as  forging  ahead  somewhat 
when  he  became  a  Regular  at  this  Temple  of  Deport 
ment.  He  carried  a  closely  wrapped  Umbrella  to 
help  convince  the  Hity-Titys  that  he  was  Some  Cuss, 
but  the  only  Parishioner  who  came  near  him  was  an 
elderly  Nicodemus  with  a  Contribution  Basket. 

By  standing  on  the  outside  and  peeking  through  a 
Knot-Hole  at  the  Hallowed  Reservation,  he  became 
wise  to  the  fact  that  the  Best  People  made  a  spe- 


236  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

cialty  of  being  interested  in  Things  that  did  not  ap 
peal  to  the  Strap-Hangers. 

Mr.  Floozey  was  very  keen  on  Kelly  Pool,  but  he 
gave  it  up  when  he  learned  that  it  was  not  being 
Done. 

His  early  Training  in  a  Center  of  Sociability 
prompted  him  to  discuss  the  Weather  with  total 
Strangers  and  likewise  get  a  little  Choice  Scandal 
now  and  then  from  the  Bell-Boys,  but  he  learned 
that  any  one  wishing  to  be  approximately  Knicker 
bocker  should  treat  a  member  of  the  Serving  Class 
as  if  he  were  Linoleum. 

In  other  words,  better  be  Lonesome  than  Common. 

Can  you  see  Mr.  Floozey  at  a  Symphony  Concert? 
His  Musical  Ear  had  been  trained  by  listening  to 
the  Silver  Cornet  Band  of  Squantamville.  Regular 
Music  sounded  to  him  as  if  the  Boys  had  started  to 
play  something  and  then  disagreed. 

Just  the  same,  he  would  put  on  the  extreme  Terra- 
pin-and-Duck  Regalia,  with  the  Pearl  Studs  and  the 
snowy  Mittens,  and  occupy  a  seat  on  the  Aisle.  He 
suffered,  but  he  stuck. 

To  show  how  carefully  he  had  planned  his  Cam 
paign,  he  had  the  extreme  foxiness  to  refrain  from 
giving  liberally  to  gilt-edge  Charities. 

It  seems  that  the  Outsider  who  crowds  into  the 
Charmed  Circle  and  makes  a  Grand-Stand  Play 
with  the  Bank  Roll  is  thanked  effusively  and  listed 
as  a  vulgar  Pretender. 

Mr.  Floozey  was  surcharged   with  a   passionate 


WHAT  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  DOING     237 

Longing  to  ring  in  with  the  Haute  Monde,  but  under 
the  Rules  of  the  Game  he  didn't  dare  to  let  on. 

His  policy  was  to  acquire  the  Hauteur  and  the 
Chesterfield  Manner  and  the  gentle  Dignity  which 
would  qualify  him.  He  felt  that  if  he  continued  to 
obey  the  League  Rules,  some  day  the  Drawbridge 
would  be  lowered  over  the  Moat  and  the  huge 
Gates  would  be  opened  and  he  would  pass  into 
Glory. 

In  order  to  get  the  right  Dope  on  Dress,  Decorum, 
and  the  regular  order  of  Business  in  Drawing  Rooms, 
he  read  all  the  Books. 

He  wanted  to  get  Tips  on  the  Line  of  Talk  he 
would  be  expected  to  pull  after  his  arrival  in  the 
Promised  Land. 

In  the  Novels  dealing  with  High  Life,  he  would 
fellow  Sir  Geoffrey  and  the  Lady  Barbara  into  the 
Formal  Garden,  and  try  to  get  them  when  they  were 
devoting  a  long  Chapter  to  a  discussion  of  certain 
elusive  Moods  of  the  Soul. 

It  is  doubtful  if  any  student  of  Current  Fiction 
ever  read  more  Chapters  and  muffed  more  Points 
than  Mr.  E.  Floozey. 

It  will  be  recalled  that  we  first  met  Our  Hero  in 
his  hardwood  Lair,  enduring  Mental  Anguish  on 
account  of  the  Finger  Nails. 

For  twenty  years  he  had  worked  overtime  at  being 
Refined.  He  had  shunned  unimportant  People, 
trained  his  rude  Vocal  Cords  to  a  faint  imitation  of 
the  Massachusetts  Dialect,  frequented  such  Places 


238  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

of  Amusement  as  bore  the  O.  K.  of  the  Drama 
League,  and  rubbed  his  Escutcheon  with  a  Chamois 
Skin  every  blessed  Morning. 

What  could  he  show  for  all  these  years  of  Purifica 
tion  by  Fire? 

Well,  he  had  been  admitted  to  a  League  for  Civic 
Betterment,  and  he  had  a  nodding  acquaintance 
with  at  least  eight  Touch-me-Nots  whose  undergar 
ments  were  supposed  to  be  Royal  Purple. 

He  had  rehearsed  until  he  was  Letter  Perfect,  but 
the  date  for  his  Debut  among  the  Dinner-Givers 
still  glimmered  in  the  uncertain  Future. 

Every  few  days  his  Past  would  rise  up  and  swat 
him. 

He  knew  too  many  People  with  Good  Memories. 

That's  the  Curse  of  having  Hoi  PoUoi  Antecedents 
and  a  Record  involving  Coffee  and  Sinkers. 

Someone  said,  somewhere,  once,  in  a  gush  of 
Originality,  that  the  World  is  Small.  To  an  eager 
Aspirant  for  Vanity  Fair  who  went  barefooted  every 
Summer  until  he  was  14,  the  dear  old  Bromide  goes 
Double  with  a  Side  Bet. 

The  threads  of  Memory  connecting  Elmer  Floozey 
with  his  humble  Origin  and  impossible  Kin-Folk 
were  about  the  size  of  Log  Chains. 

What  was  the  good  of  acquiring  Courtly  Graces 
and  looking  like  a  registered  Van  Something,  if  a 
Boob  from  the  Home  Town  could  walk  in  at  any 
moment  and  spring  a  forgotten  Nickname? 

Can    you    imagine    how    Mr.    Floozey    suffered 


WHAT  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  DOING     239 

when  Cousins  in  Mail-Order  Suits  came  to  his 
exclusive  Hotel  and  requested  him  to  take  them  to 
the  Zoo? 

Mr.  Floozey  could  not  go  to  the  Zoo.  Neither 
could  he  ride  on  a  Rubberneck  Auto.  Such  things 
were  not  being  Done. 

He  writhed  in  Mortification  and  choked  with 
Excuses  when  two  Maiden  Aunts,  who  had  put  the 
first  Swaddles  on  him,  reappeared  on  Earth  one  day 
and  asked  him  to  point  out  the  House  in  which  the 
Prominent  Society  Girl  had  been  murdered  by  a 
well-known  Clubman. 

Sometimes  it  seemed  to  him  that  all  of  the  corn-fed 
Canaille  of  the  obscure  Birthplace  had  moved  up  to 
the  City  and  were  in  a  conspiracy  to  joggle  him 
every  time  he  tried  to  stand  on  a  Pedestal. 

One  Chap  in  particular  nettled  him  to  the  very 
subcuticle. 

Away  back  in  the  hateful  days  of  the  Pin  Hooks 
and  the  Stone  Bruises,  he  had  consorted  with  an  un 
washed  Kid  named  Orlando. 

Fain  would  Mr.  Floozey  have  chiselled  the  name  of 
Orlando  from  the  tablets  of  Memory,  but  he  could 
not  get  the  right  kind  of  Chisel. 

However,  he  felt  a  half-way  Sense  of  Security  so 
far  as  Orlando  was  concerned,  believing  that  his  Boy 
hood  Friend  probably  was  serving  a  Long  Term  in 
some  Penal  Institution. 

Conceive  the  Dismay  which  chilled  the  Heart  of 
General  Manager  Floozey  when  Orlando  blew  into 


240  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

the  office  one  day  and  greeted  his  former  Playmate 
with  blatant  Enthusiasm. 

Within  five  minutes,  Orlando  had  the  Premises 
festooned  with  grinning  Skeletons  of  the  ignoble 
Past. 

It  seemed  that  he  had  sidestepped  all  the  Prisons 
and  jammed  his  way  into  the  Railway  Supply  Busi 
ness  and  was  getting  away  with  it. 

He  had  his  own  Office,  the  same  as  Mr.  Floozey, 
and  was  forcing  himself  upon  Directors  and  Purchas 
ing  Agents,  who  never  suspected  that  he  was  the 
only  son  of  a  Horse  Doctor. 

According  to  all  the  Standards  which  Mr.  Floozey 
had  set  up,  this  Orlando  Person  was  a  Cad  and  a 
Bounder  and  a  Boor.  He  was  ineffably  Bourgeois, 
even  if  he  did  pull  down  a  fat  Salary  and  show  him 
self  at  Public  Resorts. 

Mr.  Floozey  had  to  be  diplomatic  in  order  to 
escape  Orlando  and  his  boisterous  Hospitality.  He 
figured  that  the  Strategy  and  Finesse  of  his  deep-laid 
Plans  for  acquiring  Social  Recognition  would  cer 
tainly  get  balled  up  and  skyfugled  if  he  became 
identified  with  a  cheap  and  noisy  Element. 

Even  while  the  remaining  section  of  his  Con 
science  rebuked  him  for  turning  down  one  with 
whom  he  had  slept  Spoon-Fashion,  the  higher  Neces 
sity  prompted  him  to  give  Orlando  the  Go-By. 

But  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  eliminate  Orlando. 
The  latter  had  a  way  of  being  Among  those  Present 
when  there  was  aught  Stirring. 


WHAT  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  DOING     241 

Theoretically,  Orlando  was  due  to  come  an  awful 
Cropper  if  he  ever  pulled  any  of  that  fresh  Guff  on 
the  hard-faced  Aristocrats. 

Mr.  Floozey  could  hardly  believe  his  Eyes  when 
he  looked  across  the  Room  one  day  and  caught  Or 
lando  taking  Luncheon  with  three  eminent  Railway 
Officials  whom  Mr.  Floozey  had  worshiped  from  afar 
for  fifteen  years. 

Instead  of  effacing  himself  and  sitting  back  sub 
dued  and  reverential,  as  became  one  of  inferior  Rank, 
the  audacious  Orlando  had  taken  charge  of  the 
Conversation.  His  Manner  was  one  of  jaunty 
Superiority. 

He  was  joshing  the  Heavyweights. 

No  doubt  about  it.  He  was  bawling  out  the  Gray- 
beards — kidding  the  Millionaires. 

Instead  of  calling  the  Head  Waiter  and  having  him 
removed,  the  Colossi  were  laughing  their  heads  off. 

Mr.  Floozey  felt  the  Theories  of  a  Lifetime  top 
pling  about  him  and  settling  into  Ruin. 

He  made  terrified  Inquiries  and  learned  that  Or 
lando  had  been  taken  up  by  the  Best  People  because 
he  was  Breezy  and  never  had  learned  to  be  awe- 
stricken. 

The  Great  Men  would  go  home  and  tell  the 
Women  Folks  what  Orlando  had  said  at  a  Luncheon 
given  to  the  President  of  the  Trunk  Line,  and  the 
Women  would  insist  on  having  Orlando  brought  up 
to  the  House  sometime,  because  they  knew  he  must 
be  Killing. 


HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Then  Orlando  would  call  them  up  on  the  'Phone 
and  string  them  scandalous  and  tell  them  to  leave 
him  alone  because  he  was  an  unprotected  Bachelor 
with  a  spotless  Reputation.  So  it  was  generally 
known  that  any  Queen  of  the  Tiara  Tribe  who 
snared  Orlando  for  one  of  her  Dinners  was  certainly 
playing  in  Great  Luck. 

In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Floozey,  so  blamed  Genteel 
that  it  hurt,  moved  sadly  along  the  Side  Lines. 

He  would  have  given  any  Vital  Organ  that  you 
might  select  for  just  one  of  the  scraggly  Invitations 
littering  the  desk  of  Orlando. 

The  whole  Situation  was  very  baffling  to  him.  It 
seemed  that  Polite  Society  not  only  lacked  the  Sense 
of  Justice  but  operated  without  particular  Method. 

Mr.  Floozey  had  schooled  himself  until  he  was  as 
cold  and  glossy  as  a  Dress  Shirt. 

He  was  just  as  particular  as  could  be  about  his 
Vocabulary,  giving  the  Preference  to  Words  that 
were  worth  from  Eighty  Cents  to  One  Dollar  each. 

He  seldom  smiled,  and  then  only  at  some  Sally 
made  by  a  Person  above  the  grade  of  Employee. 
He  was  exceedingly  Fromage. 

For  lo,  these  many  Snows  he  had  done  nothing 
but  Prep  himself  for  a  sweeping  Entrance  into  the 
Sanctum  Sanctorum  of  the  Select  Minority,  and  he 
could  not  understand  why  he  was  kept  waiting. 

There  came  a  day  when  he  lifted  a  furtive  glance 
toward  the  Windows  of  the  Club  which  meant  to  him 
the  Ultimate  in  all  things  worth  having. 


WHAT  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  DOING     243 

Orlando  was  sprawled  among  the  Magnificos,  act 
ing  like  a  Charter  Member. 

A  generous  Impulse  came  upon  Mr.  Floozey.  He 
decided  that  one  should  never  pass  up  old  and  tried 
Friends. 

So  he  sought  out  Orlando  and  almost  kissed  him. 

That  is  how  it  came  about  that  Orlando  appeared 
before  the  Board  of  Governors  and  worked  his  Drag. 

He  asked  them  to  admit  a  certain  Applicant,  who 
would  be  attaining  the  Acme  of  Bliss  if  he  could  sit 
quietly  in  a  corner  of  the  library  and  read  the 
London  Times. 

He  said  that  Mr.  Floozey  was  so  Correct  that  he 
was  Colourless,  and  therefore  would  be  in  Harmony 
with  any  Background. 

Inasmuch  as  Orlando  was  the  Life  of  the  Card 
Room,  the  Governors  strained  a  Point  and  admitted 
the  Unknown. 

As  you  pass  the  Windows,  you  may  identify  Mr. 
Floozey  as  the  one  with  the  Rapt  Expression,  sitting 
over  by  Himself. 

Moral:  A  cultivated  Gentleman  may  get  Anywhere 
if  he  knows  the  right  kind  of  a  Rough-Neck. 


THE  FABLE  OF  HER  BIRTHDAY  AND  THE  DWINDLING 
GENEROSITY 

ONCE  a  Young  Man  employed  in  the  remote 
corner  of  a  buzzing  Beehive  alighted  from 
the  Horse  Car  and  hurried  to  his  Suburban 
Dove-Cote. 

He  found  Peaches-and-Cream  in  the  two-by-twice 
Kitchen,  superintending  a  Soup-Bone. 

Just  to  prove  that  Honey  Boy  had  kept  Tab  on 
the  Calendar  and  knew  when  Jelly  Roll  would  arrive 
at  her  22d  Milestone,  he  dangled  in  front  of  her  a 
Necklace  which  was  pure  Imitation  Coral,  all  except 
the  teeny  Pendant,  the  latter  being  shaped  like  a 
Heart  and  plated  with  real  Gold. 

The  gurgling  Honeymooner  had  laid  himself  out 
to  the  Tune  of  Three  Bucks. 

Clara  acted  as  if  the  Dinky  had  set  him  back  at 
least  Three  Million. 

She  said  he  was  her  Darling  Otey  and  so  Kind  to 
her  that  sometimes  she  felt  unworthy. 

The  Moons  waxed  and  waned,  Harvest  following 
Seed  Time. 

Under  the  bright  Sunshine  of  Prosperity  the  va 
porous   clouds    of   Love's    Young   Dream    became 
condensed  into  pleasing  Actualities. 
£44 


HER  BIRTHDAY  245 

One  morning  Clara  awoke  at  9 :45  to  the  horrifying 
knowledge  that  she  was  52  years  to  the  Worse. 

Ahead  of  her  were  the  Dark  Woods,  where  the 
Ravens  Croak,  the  Fox-Trot  is  left  behind,  and 
Knitting  grows  on  every  Bush. 

She  arose  with  but  one  Thought  in  operation  and 
that  was  to  guard  well  her  Secret. 

Otis  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  Breakfast  Room, 
flanked  about  by  Pale  Servants. 

He  said  he  had  ordered  up  the  new  Car  as  a 
trifling  reminder  of  the  awful  Anniversary,  and 
would  she  go  out  and  see  what  was  Wrong  with  it  and 
have  it  over  with. 

On  the  sheltered  Driveway  stood  a  next  year's 
Motor. 

It  was  a  beautiful  Monster,  with  the  sheen  of 
Satin,  the  well-ordered  compactness  of  a  Swiss 
Watch,  and  a  Purr  like  that  of  a  Pet  Kitten. 

Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  men  had  delved 
in  Mines  and  chopped  in  Forests  and  wrought  with 
complicated  Machines  and  computed  with  delicate 
Instruments  and  worried  over  Blue  Prints  to  produce 
this  domesticated  and  refined  Juggernaut. 

A  woman  sewing  in  a  tenement  Sweat-Shop  could 
earn  in  30  years  enough  Money  to  buy  such  a  Car 
if  she  saved  every  Cent  and  never  took  a  Day  off. 

The  Check  which  paid  for  the  Car  would  have 
meant  a  comfortable  Fortune  for  any  Man  in  the 
year  1850. 

Clara  once-overed  the  whole  Layout  through  the 


246 


HER  BIRTHDAY  247 

Specs  that  she  carried  on  a  Mother-of-Pearl  Handle, 
and  then  she  remarked,  as  if  she  had  received  *i 
Knife  Thrust  right  into  the  Heart,  that  Mrs.  Willis- 
ton-Gibbs  had  one  that  you  ordered  from  England 
two  years  in  Advance  because  the  Output  was  only 
8  a  Year. 

Moral:  The  easiest  Thing  to  get  used  to  is  Letting  Go 
of  it. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  UPLIFT  THAT  MOVED   SIDE 
WAYS 

DURING  the  later  Puff-Sleeve  Period  and 
shortly  before  Stout  Ladies  began  to  ride 
Bikes,  a  dignified  Episcopalian  found  him 
self  in  the  County  Court,  trying  to  stave  off  his 
Creditors. 

When  a  College  Graduate  goes  on  the  Rocks,  he 
has  to  cast  about  for  something  other  than  Manual 
Toil,  so  the  Party  of  whom  we  are  speaking  circulated 
a  Petition  and  landed  a  Berth  in  the  U.  S.  Consular 
Service. 

The  Fact  that  Rodney  J.  Whipple  sailed  away  in 
1887  for  the  Port  Town  of  Comato  on  the  Island  of 
Dolsifar  has  no  important  Connection  with  the  pres 
ent  Recital. 

He  boarded  a  single-screw  Chugger  and  steamed 
on  and  on. 

Finally,  when  the  Coal  was  about  to  give  out,  there 
arose  from  the  Azure  Sea  a  steam-heated  Possession 
pin-feathered  with  spidery  Palms. 

A  scattering  of  whitewashed  Dobes  against  a  back 
ground  of  Jungle  was  the  Capitol  City  in  which  Mr. 
Whipple  was  to  keep  the  Starry  Banner  from  droop 
ing. 

348 


THE  UPLIFT  249 

The  Consulship  at  Comato  was  a  Dream  of  a  Job 
for  any  one  of  crippled  Pocketbook,  shy  on  Ambition, 
and  willing  to  be  forgotten  by  his  former  Cronies. 

It  was  so  far  beyond  the  edge  of  the  Map  that 
it  was  overlooked  by  Beach-Combers,  Remittance 
Men,  and  the  State  Department. 

A  Steamer  hove  into  View  once  a  Month,  and  the 
Lulls  in  between  were  broken  only  by  the  murmur 
of  the  Surf. 

It  was  the  sort  of  Tropical  Paradise  in  which  the 
maddest  Fling  is  to  ride  along  the  Sea  Wall  in  what 
had  been  a  Victoria  at  one  Time. 

Year  after  year  the  Yankee  Consul  loafed  in  his 
White  Clothes  and  Siestad  and  read  out-of-date 
Books. 

The  Noises  of  the  Great  World  could  not  carry 
across  the  deep  Drink. 

He  felt  no  yearning  for  the  scenes  of  previous 
Disasters  and  no  one  urged  him  to  come  Home,  so 
he  stuck  along  until  after  the  Champion  Trouble- 
Maker  tried  to  get  astride  of  the  Globe  and  dig  in 
with  his  Spurs. 

In  other  words,  it  was  in  1919  that  he  opened  a 
Letter  and  learned  that  a  durable  old  Uncle  finally 
had  let  go. 

The  real  Plot  of  the  Message  was  that  our  Consular 
Representative  had  Dough  once  again  and  could  go 
back  to  the  old  Diggings  and  hold  up  his  Head  and 
be  a  regular  Cuss. 

He  could  see  himself  riding  in  a  Brougham  on  his 


250 


THE  UPLIFT  251 

way  to  a  Progressive-Euchre  Party,  for  he  had  been 
away  Thirty  Years  and  had  kept  no  Tab  on  the  shifts 
of  Scenery  leading  up  to  the  Grand  Transformation. 

He  stood  at  the  front  end  of  the  Ship  so  as  to  be  in 
ahead  of  the  Others. 

He  wondered  if  there  had  been  many  Changes. 

Enoch  Arden  and  Rip  Van  Winkle  were  piking 
Amateurs  compared  with  Rodney  J. 

Here  was  a  well-preserved  American,  holding  an 
A.  B.  from  an  A-l  College,  who  never  had  dodged  a 
Motor  Bus,  looked  up  at  an  Airplane,  or  waited  for 
a  Suffrage  Parade  to  pass  by. 

Here  was  a  high-grade  Specimen  of  old  Colonial 
Stock  who  never  saw  William  Jennings  Bryan  or 
foozled  a  Niblick  Approach. 

He  was  just  as  ripe  for  Impressions  as  if  he  had 
come  from  the  planet  Mars  hanging  to  the  tail  of  a 
Meteorite. 

What  he  wanted  to  know  was,  had  the  old  Universe 
reformed  or  backslid  while  he  was  absent  from  the 
Side  Lines? 

He  took  his  first  Taxi  ride  and  looked  into  the  face 
of  Death  100  Times. 

The  city  he  remembered  had  disappeared  and  on 
the  former  Site  were  Mountains  girded  with  Steel, 
and  Bedlam  frothing  in  every  Valley. 

Most  of  the  curdled  Impressions  of  the  first  Day 
were  utterly  trivial. 

The  first  Fact  striking  him  hard  was  that  the 
Derby  Hat  was  no  longer  shaped  like  a  Turtle. 


HAND-MADE  FABLES 

His  old  Friend,  the  Cigar  Store  Indian,  had  been 
sent  to  a  Reservation. 

Where  were  the  box-toed  Boots  of  yesteryear? 

The  Cravat  encircled  by  a  Gold  Ring  was  no 
longer  a  Mark  of  Gentility. 

Where  once  the  Oyster  Parlour  smiled,  a  Cafeteria 
lifted  its  pale  Front. 

WThiskers  had  ceased  to  be  an  important  Trade 
mark. 

Policemen  rode  on  Horses  and  Street  Cars  had 
burrowed  into  the  Ground  and  Food  was  being  served 
in  Drug  Stores. 

Hotel  Rates  had  been  whooped  and  Meals  were  no 
longer  included. 

He  hurried  to  collect  his  Legacy  and  listened  to 
Strange  Talk  regarding  Inheritance  Tax  and  Income 
Tax  and  Excess  Profits. 

It  seemed  that  each  Good  Citizen  kept  his  Money 
in  plain  sight  so  that  the  Government  could  reach 
over  at  any  time  and  swipe  what  it  needed. 

Back  in  the  'Eighties,  any  one  who  spoke  of  a 
Million  Dollars  did  so  in  a  Choking  Whisper. 

Now  the  World  of  Finance  was  playing  Ring 
around  the  Rosie,  with  a  Jack  Pot  of  ever  so  many 
Billions  stacked  up  in  the  Centre. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  new  breed  of  Woman  since 
the  bygone  Period  of  the  Mazourka  and  the  13-inch 
Waist. 

The  Female  seemed  to  have  come  into  her  Own 
and  then  kept  on  coming. 


THE  UPLIFT  253 

It  seemed  that  she  knew  a  great  many  Things  that 
had  been  kept  from  her  Grandfather. 

Rodney  J.  Whipple  could  remember  when  the 
Daughter  of  the  Household  was  not  permitted  to 
leave  the  Verandah.  If  she  read  a  Novel  containing 
a  Love  Scene,  the  other  Maud  Mullers  thought  she 
was  a  bit  Daring. 

Now  the  Debutante  could  look  straight  at  any 
Cardinal  Truth  and  never  bat  an  Eye. 

So  far  as  the  Knitting  was  concerned,  they  seemed 
to  be  Regular  Women,  but  the  Exile  went  dizzy 
in  the  head  when  he  saw  them  blowing  Cigarette 
Smoke  through  powdered  Nostrils. 

He  knew  that  Emancipation  meant  being  Free, 
but  he  did  not  see  why  it  should  mean  being  Free 
and  Easy. 

It  was  pretty  hard  for  any  one  with  an  1885  Train 
ing  to  believe  that  a  really  Nice  Woman  could  be 
so  Skittish. 

He  was  told  that  people  had  become  more  Moral 
but  less  Particular,  which  you  can  figure  out  for 
yourself. 

Reforming  Influences  certainly  had  altered  the 
face  of  the  Landscape. 

Nearly  all  of  the  Race  Tracks  had  been  closed. 

Thirty  years  ago  the  Pool  Room  had  been  as  open- 
faced  as  a  Delicatessen  Store.  Betting  on  the  Races 
was  a  daily  Weakness  among  the  Best  People. 

Mr.  Whipple  learned  that  the  Race-Track  Gambler 
was  now  classed  with  the  Well-Poisoner  and  Pacifist. 


254  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  Gambling  House,  with  its  red  Brussels  Carpet 
and  free  Midnight  Supper,  had  become  a  dim  Mem 
ory. 

The  Red  Lights  of  long  ago  had  been  snuffed  out. 

Mr.  Whipple  wanted  to  shake  the  Box  in  a  Cigar 
Store  and  was  warned  by  a  Cop. 

He  began  to  realize  that  the  Average  Citizen  of 
30  years  ago  was  little  better  than  a  Crook. 

He  recalled  that  in  the  'Eighties  he  enjoyed  going 
to  Prize  Fights  and  liked  to  see  the  Ponies  gallop 
and  knew  how  to  keep  Cases  at  Faro  and  was  per 
sonally  acquainted  with  the  Genius  who  invented 
the  Manhattan  Cocktail. 

He  learned  that  even  the  Manhattan  had  become 
Prehistoric,  and  every  form  of  Exhilarator  contain 
ing  above  2  per  cent,  of  the  Useful  Ingredient  was 
about  to  be  thrown  overboard. 

It  was  certainly  a  renovated  and  sterilized  and 
fumigated  Community  in  which  Mr.  Whipple  found 
himself. 

He  had  been  a  great  Show  Fan  in  the  old  days,  and 
he  felt  a  natural  Longing  to  revel  in  Theatrical  Enter 
tainment  after  all  the  Years  on  that  lonely  Island. 

"  But  what  is  the  Use?  "  asked  Mr.  Whipple.  "All 
the  rational  Enjoyments  of  my  Youth  have  been  put 
into  the  Discard.  Public  Entertainments  are  now 
under  the  direction  of  the  Epworth  League.  What 
is  the  good  of  going  to  a  Show  Shop?  I  just  know 
that  I  won't  be  able  to  see  anything  Snappy  and 
Devilish,  the  same  as  The  Black  Crook.'  That 


THE  UPLIFT  255 

certainly  was  a  Mango !  The  Girls  wore  Tights  and 
you  never  saw  a  Woman  in  the  Audience." 

Mr.  Whipple  bought  a  Front  Seat  for  some  new 
fangled  Drama  called  a  Revue  and  went  in  prepared 
to  take  a  good  Nap. 

One  hour  later,  just  as  the  barelegged  Dancers 
were  performing  a  Classical  Number  entitled  "The 
Satyr's  Saturday  Night,"  Mr.  Whipple  dashed  out 
of  the  Theatre  with  his  Hat  in  front  of  his  Face. 

He  was  the  only  Quitter. 

All  the  Seminary  Flappers  home  on  a  Vacation, 
and  the  sweet-faced  old  Chaperons,  and  the  various 
Pillars  of  the  Baptist,  Unitarian,  and  Congregational 
Churches  stuck  in  their  Places  and  continued  the 
Anatomical  Researches,  while  Mr.  Whipple  leaned 
aginst  a  Mail-Box  outside  gasping  for  Breath. 

He  recalled  that  in  1878  he  had  slipped  away  from 
Home  one  Evening  to  attend  a  Performance  by  the 
British  Blondes. 

The  imported  Fairies  had  been  tabu  and  outcast 
because  they  came  out  in  short  Skirts  and  Kicked  up. 

He  compared  that  evening  of  guilty  Pleasure  long 
ago  with  the  brazen  Indecencies  and  the  flaunting 
Shamelessness  of  what  he  had  just  witnessed  in  a 
first-class  $2  House  catering  to  the  Family  Trade. 

The  Cycle  of  Change  evidently  had  been  making 
about  2,400  Revolutions  per  minute. 

A  Policeman  came  along,  and  Mr.  Whipple  urged 
him  to  call  for  a  lot  of  Blue  Wagons  and  pull  the 
Joint. 


256  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

"Evidently  you  are  behind  the  Parade,"  said  the 
kindly  Officer  of  the  Law.  "  This  one  isn't  a  Marker 
compared  to  the  one  that  ran  38  weeks  last  Season. 
We  are  living  in  an  Era  of  Candour  and  Confidence. 
Our  present  Motto  is  that  there  shall  be  no  Secrets 
among  Friends,  even  when  Moles  and  Freckles  are 
involved." 

"Have  you  no  Censorship?"  asked  Mr.  Whipple. 

"Yes;  but  it  is  quite  busy  closing  up  Movies." 

The  poor  Has-Been  went  home  to  tell  his  Relatives 
of  the  Shock  he  had  received. 

They  informed  him  that  the  Ox-Cart  had  gone  to 
Limbo  and  Folks  now  went  in  for  Twin  Sixes. 

Grand  Opera  seemed  a  safe  refuge  for  an  Old- 
Timer. 

Sure  enough,  he  found  the  same  dependable  Faust 
with  Oakum  Beard  trailing  the  heavy-weight  Mar 
guerite,  and  Romeo  trilling  to  a  Juliet  with  Grand 
children  on  the  Police  Force. 

He  was  pleased  to  know  that  the  best  Traditions 
of  Music  had  not  been  lost  in  the  Shuffle. 

Then  he  happened  in  at  a  Small  Dance  and  looked 
over  the  Card  for  the  Lancers  and  the  Polka  and  the 
Military  Schottische,  after  which  he  secreted  himself 
behind  a  Palm  to  await  Developments. 

The  Band  began  to  Jazz. 

Mr.  Whipple  held  his  Head. 

Either  the  Orchestra  had  forgotten  to  tune  up  or 
he  was  going  off  his  Dip — he  couldn't  tell  which. 

He  knew  it  wasn't  Music,  but  they  were  on  the 


257 


258  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Floor,  making  epileptic  Efforts  to  ride  on  the  choppy 
Sea  of  Discords. 

They  shuffled  in  close  Formation,  writhing  as  if  in 
Agony. 

Mr.  Whipple  wondered  if  he  had  made  a  Mistake 
in  leaving  the  Island. 

"Music  has  ceased  to  be,"  he  said.  "Modesty  is 
arLost  Art,  and  Gentle  Woman  has  become  an  Acro 
bat.  I  know  it  is  an  Age  of  Progress,  because  the 
Country  has  gone  Dry  and  sanitary  Paper  Cups  are 
being  used  on  every  Railway  Train.  Home  Life 
seems  to  be  slightly  disarranged,  but  I  suppose  that 
is  part  of  the  Game." 

Next  day  they  took  him  to  a  Club  Meeting,  but  it 
turned  out  to  be  a  Clinic,  so  he  ducked  for  fear  some 
one  would  catch  him  Blushing  and  denounce  him  as 
a  Reactionary. 

Last  week  he  wrote  to  the  State  Department  in 
quiring  if  any  one  had  been  named  for  the  Post  at 
Comato  on  the  Island  of  Dolsifar. 

He  thinks  he  can  best  serve  his  Generation  by 
getting  away  somewhere  and  calming  down  and 
giving  Absent  Treatment. 

"Do  you  notice  many  Improvements?"  asks  some 
former  Friend. 

"Yes,  indeed;  there  have  been  many  Changes," 
replies  Mr.  Whipple,  with  his  Fingers  crossed. 

Moral:  Familiarity  breeds  Contentment. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  POLITE  POISON  COUNTER 

IT  BEFELL  that  Uncle  Granby  got  in  sideways 
by  telling  little  Anastasia  and  her  brother  Elder- 
kin  about  the  old  Zip-Zip  Days,  when  Bourbon 
High-Balls  were  peddled  over  the  Bar  and  Public 
Dancing  was  tolerated  and  Women  wore  4-inch 
Heels. 

The  Yarns  he  spun  often  led  the  Bairns  to  suspect 
that  he  was  Spoofing. 

They  asked  Questions  without  number  about  the 
Bad  Men  of  the  Past,  such  as  Captain  Kidd  and 
Simon  Legree  and  Wm.  Hohenzollern. 

It  is  a  perverse  Fact  in  Heredity  that  well-brought- 
up  Children  are  always  more  interested  in  Jesse 
James  than  in  Lyman  B.  Abbott. 

They  wanted  to  know  about  the  sheltered  Cove 
where  the  Pirates  held  Wassail. 

They  were  likewise  on  edge  to  hear  Tales  of  that 
Lawless  Period  when  any  Desperado  could  walk 
right  in  from  the  Street  and  buy  himself  a  lot  of 
Liquor  and  then  Start  Something. 

When  Uncle  Granby  told  of  Alcohol  being  served 
in  the  Homes  of  Church  Members,  the  Kiddies  sus 
pected  that  he  was  drawing  the  Long  Bow  just  to 
make  their  Blood  run  cold. 

259 


260  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

They  were  slow  to  believe  that  the  Grandfathers 
of  some  of  the  Children  they  knew  had  come  home 
from  College  Reunions  at  2  A.  M.,  Plastered  to  a  fare- 
ye-well. 

With  pop-eyed  Wonder  they  listened  to  stories  of 
Wedding  Parties  at  which  both  of  the  Male  Parents 
involved  in  the  Sacrifice  were  Carbonated  and  had 
to  be  laid  out  in  the  Check-Room. 

It  was  not  easy  for  them  to  understand  why  Bar- 
Flies  should  work  for  years  to  build  up  a  Thirst  and 
then  turn  around  and  be  shot  in  the  Arm  so  as  to  get 
rid  of  it. 

Their  most  burning  Curiosity  was  in  regard  to  the 
Public  Dispensary,  home  of  Song  and  Argument, 
which  had  prospered  under  various  Names  and  was 
latterly  known  as  a  Buffet. 

Uncle  Granby  was  almost  stumped  by  some  of 
their  Queries. 

Why  did  the  Customers  take  chances  the  Evening 
Before  if  they  knew  they  were  going  to  be  in  a  Dying 
Condition  the  Morning  After? 

Why  was  it  considered  Bad  Form  for  a  Regular  to 
Quit,  even  though  he  was  already  Whittled? 

What  was  the  Lure  drawing  Citizens  away  from 
the  green  Parks  to  stand  around  in  the  Sawdust  and 
discuss  the  Tariff? 

He  tried  to  feed  their  gaping  little  Minds  with 
Plausibilities. 

He  expounded  to  them  that  up  to  a  certain  Time 
the  Women  never  had  voted  and  the  Kaiser  never 


THE  POLITE  POISON  COUNTER      261 

had  been  trimmed  and  the  Saloon  Boss  never  had 
taken  Orders. 

There  had  been  an  Era  of  Uncertainty  during 
which  any  number  of  well-meaning  Folks  believed 
that  it  was  a  mistake  to  do  anything  for  the  First 
Time. 

The  Proposition  to  abolish  something  which  al 
ways  had  been  seemed  a  good  deal  like  revising  the 
Plans  of  Providence. 

The  Option  of  going  to  it  or  leaving  it  lay  was  an 
Asset  which  had  come  down  to  us  from  the  Birth 
of  Time,  the  same  as  Original  Sin  and  the  Gambling 
Instinct. 

To  revoke  a  Franchise  which  had  been  running 
6,000  years  seemed  sudden  and  irregular. 

Besides,  there  was  a  Tradition,  Centuries  old  and 
frequently  verified  over  the  Mahogany  Bar,  that  the 
drinking  Gink  would  always  get  what  he  wanted, 
regardless  of  the  Statutes. 

After  a  lucid  Explanation  of  this  kind,  little  Elder- 
kin  would  ask,  "Why  was  the  Bar  made  of  Mahog- 
any?" 

"Because,"  Uncle  Granby  would  reply,  "as  the 
Current  was  gradually  turned  on  and  the  Radiance 
became  more  incandescent,  it  seemed  most  appro 
priate  that  all  within  the  Illuminated  Area  should 
be  surrounded  by  Kingly  Trappings." 

This  Line  of  Talk  was  just  as  clear  as  Mud  to 
Elderkin  and  Anastasia. 

Uncle  Granby  said  it  was  hard  for  them  to  grasp 


262  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

the  Plot  unless  they  had  visited  a  regular  old-fash 
ioned  Emporium  dealing  in  Wines,  Liquors,  and 
Cigars. 

He  said  that  he  never  got  Gettysburg  straightened 
out  in  the  Knob  until  after  he  visited  the  Battlefield. 

Unfortunately,  no  Historical  Society  had  pre 
served  for  succeeding  Generations  a  typical  Poor 
Man's  Club,  with  its  heavy  Mirrors  and  Paintings 
from  the  Salon. 

Uncle  Granby  supposed  that  every  Grog  Shop 
had  long  since  passed  into  Limbo,  along  with  the 
gold  Toothpick  and  the  Roller  Towel. 

Imagine  his  Surprise  to  find  in  a  Side  Street,  one 
Day,  a  Corner  Establishment  which  still  wore  above 
the  Door  a  faded  Signboard  reading  as  follows: 
"Tom's  Place." 

He  peered  through  the  dusty  Window  and  saw  all 
the  Props  and  Paraphernalia  with  which  he  had  been 
familiar  in  the  moist  Days  of  his  Youth. 

The  Eddies  of  Suburban  Development  had  swept 
around  and  beyond  the  Spot. 

Vacant  Storerooms  and  decrepit  Hold-Overs  told 
of  the  Blasted  Hopes  of  Many  a  Renting  Agency. 

That  very  Day  he  borrowed  a  key  from  the  Real- 
Estater. 

When  he  went  back  to  the  children,  he  carried  a 
Secret  and  a  Surprise. 

He  tantalized  them  by  promising  a  Visit  to  a  real 
Show. 

Elderkin  and  Anastasia  were  keyed  up  and  eager 


THE  POLITE  POISON  COUNTER      263 

when  they  started  out  under  his  Guidance  next 
Day. 

He  came  to  the  Corner  and  turned  the  rusty  Lock 
and  led  them  into  the  stuffy  and  bedraggled 
Antiquity. 

They  followed  timidly  and  took  a  slow  and  puz 
zled  Survey  of  the  deep  Carvings,  the  cobwebbed 
Mirrors,  the  cold  Array  of  Empty  Decanters,  the 
latticed  Screen,  the  yawning  Ice-Box,  the  mottled 
Brass- Work,  the  sleeping  Cash  Register,  the  yellow 
Prints  of  bygone  Champions. 

Upon  the  Wall  certain  Placards  were  still  decipher 
able. 

One  gave  assurance  that  there  was  not  a  Cross 
Word  in  a  Barrel  of  anything  made  in  Kentucky. 

Another  suggested  that  if  Drinking  interfered  with 
Business,  it  might  be  a  bright  Thought  to  omit  Busi 
ness. 

Still  another,  brief  and  cryptic,  said,  "Tie  the  Bull 
outside." 

"Where  are  we? "  asked  little  Anastasia. 

"Can't  you  guess?"  asked  Uncle  Granby,  much 
amused  by  their  Bewilderment.  "This  is  what  I 
told  you  about  all  last  Winter.  It  is  a  Saloon." 

Both  Anastasia  and  Elderkin  clapped  their  Hands 
with  Delight. 

They  began  to  pump  Questions. 

Uncle  Granby  gave  them  the  Modus  Operandi. 

He  explained  that  the  Screen  had  been  set 
before  the  Door  because  the  Patrons  believed  that 


264 


THE  POLITE  POISON  COUNTER      265 

a  Desire  for  Privacy  is  instinctive  among  the  Well 
Bred. 

In  the  Decanters  had  shimmered  the  more  Fiery 
Compounds  which  gave  Quick  Results. 

From  the  Grains  of  the  Field  came  spicy  Distilla 
tions,  enabling  the  Dumb  to  speak  and  the  Dull  to 
open  the  Book  of  Knowledge. 

Those  tarnished  Faucets  had  gushed  for  Years 
with  a  Brew  which  foamed  in  the  Mug  and  carried  a 
scant  4  per  cent,  of  the  necessary  Ingredient. 

Because  of  the  Kick  being  thus  diluted,  the  Bulk 
absorbed  in  the  course  of  a  busy  Evening  had  to  be 
very  Impressive  in  order  to  get  a  satisfactory  total. 

The  Purchaser  who  was  out  for  a  20  per  cent. 
Effect  had  to  return  to  the  4  per  cent,  just  5  times 
in  order  to  arrive  at  his  Destination. 

These  Mathematical  Exercises,  being  often  re 
peated  in  a  spirit  of  Rivalry,  developed  incredible 
Storage  Capacities. 

To  be  the  Custodian  of  a  large  Fluid  Cargo  was  to 
be  respected  and  admired. 

"Why?"  asked  Elderkin. 

"It  was  part  of  the  Code,"  replied  Uncle  Granby. 

He  showed  them  the  Free-Lunch  Department. 

"Would  you  believe,"  he  asked,  "that  such  ex 
pensive  Rarities  as  Roast  Beef  and  Turkey  and  hard- 
boiled  Eggs  and  imported  Cheese  and  White  Bread 
and  Baked  Beans  and  golden  creamery  Butter  were 
spread  upon  this  Board?  The  solitary  Piker  who 
purchased  One  in  the  Light  could  saunter  across  and 


266  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

grab  off  a  Banquet  which  would  now  stand  you  about 
$6  in  a  good  Hotel." 

"They  fed  them  free  of  charge?"  asked  Anastasia, 
seemingly  skeptical. 

"The  Lunch  was  a  Come-On  for  the  Wet  Goods," 
explained  Uncle  Granby.  "Besides,  many  who  had 
Homes  of  their  own  touched  the  Layout  lightly. 
They  ate  just  enough  to  sustain  a  reasonable 
Thirst.  Between  Rounds  they  would  punish  a  few 
Links  of  Sausage  or  mayhap  dally  with  a  dried 
Herring." 

"And  the  Rum-Seller?  "  suggested  Anastasia. 

"Ah,  he  was  not  marked  with  so  harsh  a  Title  in 
the  days  of  his  Social  Supremacy.  Those  who  had 
won  his  Favour  could  use  the  First  Name,  but  Strang 
ers  and  those  amateur  Stews  who  were  still  on  Pro 
bation  usually  addressed  him  as  'Professor.'  His 
Post  of  Duty  was  behind  yonder  massive  Slab.  He 
wore  a  costume  of  virginal  Whiteness.  It  was 
touched  off  by  one  or  two  costly  Gems  and  a  fresh 
Carnation  with  Tin-Foil  around  the  Stem.  I  find  it 
difficult  to  convey  to  your  Meagre  Understandings 
all  the  Complexities  involved  in  the  Practice  of  his 
Profession.  He  was  a  Composite  of  Guide,  Coun 
selor,  Friend,  Referee,  Diplomat,  Reception  Com 
mittee,  Medical  Adviser,  Weeping-Post,  and  Po 
litical  Prophet.  To  set  out  the  Glasses  and  ring  the 
Cash  Register  were  the  least  of  his  Obligations. 
Sometimes  he  had  to  listen,  for  an  hour  at  a  Stretch, 
to  the  Hard-Luck  Jonas  whose  wife  had  been  to  see  a 


Between  Rounds  tliey  would  punish   a  few  Links   of 
Sausage  or  mayhap  dally  with  a  dried  Herring 


2G7 


268  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Lawyer.  Beer  and  Sympathy  were  on  Tap  at  all 
times." 

"You  mean  that  those  who  were  in  Trouble  came 
to  receive  Consolation?  "  asked  Elderkin.  "Why  so? 
I  never  heard  of  a  Soda-Clerk  being  made  the 
Custodian  of  Family  Secrets." 

"The  Soda-Clerk,  even  in  his  most  glorified  As 
pect,  is  merely  a  Servitor,"  explained  Uncle  Granby. 
"In  his  Day,  the  Booze-Clerk  was  Pythias  to  every 
Damon  who  came  in  for  a  Pick-me-Up.  A  man 
might  play  foxy  with  his  Attorney  and  hold  out  on 
the  Family  Doctor,  but  he  would  give  up  the  whole 
Interior  Works  to  Steve  in  the  White  Coat.  Every 
bruised  and  battered  Soul  would  flee  as  a  Bird  to  the 
Life-Saving  Station.  It  was  the  one  Spot  where 
tortured  Sensibilities  were  always  sure  of  getting 
First  Aid.  It  happened  that  every  Drinking  Man 
was  either  maligned  or  misunderstood.  The  only 
Mortal  who  could  look  beneath  the  Surface  and  detect 
Pure  Gold  was  the  kind-hearted  Mixer.  No  matter 
what  the  Wife  had  said  at  Breakfast  or  what  his 
Business  Partner  had  been  telling  around  about  him, 
the  injured  Hero  was  always  100  per  cent.  Infallible 
when  he  submitted  all  the  Facts  to  his  good  old  Pal  at 
the  Pub.  Out  of  the  Black  Depths  would  rise  the 
Star  of  Hope.  Sometimes  there  would  be  two  Stars. 
All  Debts  would  be  paid  off  and  the  Enemies  laid  in  the 
Dust.  Then  next  Morning,  the  Party  of  the  First 
Part  would  find  himself  out  of  the  Airplane  and  lying 
among  the  Jagged  Rocks  in  a  valley  10,000  feet  deep." 


THE  POLITE  POISON  COUNTER      269 

Anastasia  by  way  of  Corroboration  had  read 
somewhere  that  during  the  Alcoholic  Age  the 
Victims  would  tea  up  in  order  to  Drown  their 
Sorrows. 

"Right-o!"  said  Uncle  Granby.  "But  don't  get 
the  Idea  that  there  was  only  one  Pretext.  Any 
Gentleman  who  had  it  in  the  back  of  his  Head  to  go 
down  to  the  Corner  and  get  all  lit  up  like  a  Triumphal 
Arch  could  always  pull  a  swell  Excuse.  Also,  every 
Family  Man  who  came  home  at  3  A.  M.  with  a  Breath 
which  showed  as  a  Phosphorescent  Streak  in  the 
Darkness  was  always  there  with  a  peachy  Alibi.  In 
all  the  years  during  which  I  played  more  or  less  Tag 
with  the  Liquor  Traffic,  I  can't  remember  one  Case 
in  which  a  Lush  went  to  the  Bad  because  of  a  low- 
down  craving  for  the  old  Juice.  He  was  either  led 
astray  or  his  foot  slipped.  He  lined  up  with  the 
Indians  and  began  to  hoist,  not  because  Strong  Drink 
was  anything  in  his  Young  Life,  but  because  the 
Occasion  seemed  to  warrant  an  Exchange  of  Hos 
pitalities  and  he  could  not  afford  to  ignore  the  strict 
Tenets  of  Sociability.  Thus,  one  Man  would  drink 
because  he  had  just  received  a  Wire  saying  that  an 
Uncle  was  Dead  in  South  Dakota.  Another  would 
insist  on  Buying  because  his  Wife  had  given  birth  to 
Twins,  or  his  Son  had  graduated  from  High  School, 
or  he  himself  had  been  awarded  a  Contract.  This 
very  Ken  in  which  you  are  now  standing  was  a  fa 
voured  Rendezvous  for  Collegians  attending  Athletic 
Contests  in  yonder  Field.  After  the  Game,  the 


270  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Victors  would  surge  into  the  Joint  and  battle  for 
Frontage  and  Lick  it  up  by  the  Gallon  because  they 
were  Celebrating.  The  Vanquished  likewise  would 
appear  in  vast  numbers  and  imbibe  copiously  because 
they  wanted  to  Forget.  Can  you  beat  it?  Let  us 
suppose  that  A,  standing  for  Adams,  had  been  in  the 
Country  with  his  Family  and  came  Home  feeling 
very  Top-Hole  and  full  of  Frisk.  Just  because  he 
was  Aces  and  Eights,  he  would  beat  it  to  a  gilded 
Dump  and  pound  on  the  Bar  and  tell  the  Bosun  to 
pipe  all  Hands  forward  for  Grog  and  let  the  others 
hide  their  Coin.  Reversing  the  Picture,  B,  standing 
for  Blazinsky,  would  have  a  Dull  Pain  in  the  Coke 
and  a  Prairie  Fire  under  the  Belt.  He  would  come 
into  the  Home  for  Wayward  Men  and  lean  his  Body 
up  against  the  Rail  and  tell  McGluke  how  he  was 
punk  and  seedy  and  desiccated,  even  as  a  Faded 
Flower.  Then  Mac  would  look  him  over  and  put  on 
the  Manner  of  a  Diagnostician  and  say,  'What  you 
need  is  a  little  Skee  with  a  dash  of  Peppermint.'  I 
can  assure  you  that  the  Boys  behind  the  Spigots 
saved  many  a  Trip  to  see  the  Doctor.  If  an  Un 
fortunate  came  with  his  Feet  wet  and  his  Teeth 
chattering,  he  was  given  a  full  Gill  from  the  Black 
Bottle.  If  the  next  Patient  had  Heartburn  and  a 
sort  of  a  Sofa-Pillow  Taste  in  the  Mouth,  he  would 
be  given  a  Slug  of  the  same  Panacea." 

"What  was  in  the  Black  Bottle?"  asked  Elderkin. 

"If  the  Government  Chemist  couldn't  find  out, 
what  chance  did  the  Customers  have?    The  only 


THE  POLITE  POISON  COUNTER      271 

two  Ingredients  we  felt  sure  of  were  Fusel  Oil  and 
Prune  Juice.  It  smelled  like  Liniment,  and  those 
who  did  not  fancy  it  as  a  Beverage  used  it  for  remov 
ing  Rust  from  Metals.  Before  twanging  the  Harp, 
it  was  customary  to  study  the  Label  on  the  Outside 
and  then  breathe  a  Silent  Prayer.  A  much  favoured 
Superstition  was  that  the  longer  it  was  kept  in  the 
Barrel  the  more  deadly  and  altogether  desirable  it 
became.  As  to  that,  I  cannot  say.  My  clearest 
Recollection  is  that  almost  any  well-known  Brand 
would  induce  a  Dove  of  Peace  to  challenge  the 
American  Eagle.  After  pouring  about  Three  Fingers 
it  was  advisable  to  stand  on  a  Concrete  Base  in 
order  to  take  up  the  Recoil." 

"If  it  was  so  dynamic,  why  did  our  Ancestors 
trifle  with  it  ?  "  asked  Elderkin. 

"My  Boy,  the  vinous  and  malt  Ceremonials  which 
illuminated  Family  Histories  and  gave  zest  to 
Standard  Fiction  were  held  in  pleasant  Esteem.  It 
didn't  seem  possible  to  rally  round  a  Pump.  No 
one  had  seen  or  heard  tell  of  a  Dry  Banquet,  and  the 
more  influential  Citizens  didn't  think  it  could  be 
accomplished.  To  you,  in  Retrospect,  the  Festivi 
ties  of  the  last  Century  look  to  be  very  Bacchanalian 
and  what  you  might  term  Rough  Stuff.  I  can  assure 
you  that  when  the  whole  World  was  tinctured  with 
the  Essence  of  Hilarity,  the  only  Dipsomaniac  was 
the  Other  Fellow.  Even  the  Sanatorium  Inmates 
called  it  Stomach  Trouble.  The  Legislators  who 
voted  against  their  old  side-kick,  John  Barleycorn, 


272  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

did  so  with  extreme  Reluctance.  I  say  to  you 
Young  People,  be  forgiving  of  the  Past.  Because 
you  live  in  a  Regenerated  Era  and  have  known  from 
the  Cradle  up  that  both  Slavery  and  Cocktails  are 
wrong,  don't  turn  the  Family  Portraits  to  the  wall 
just  because  some  of  the  Beaks  are  rosy  Red.  Your 
bibulous  Forebears  simply  adapted  themselves  to 
Environment.  When  they  were  Associating,  it  was 
not  the  common  Practice  to  ask  for  Tea  with  a  Slice 
of  Lemon  in  it,  so  they  took  hot  Applejack  with  a 
light  grating  of  Nutmeg  on  the  Surface.  The  es 
sential  Weaknesses  of  Human  Nature  endure,  but 
Fashions  change.  In  our  enlightened  Day,  the 
Village  Souse  sings  in  the  Choir  because  even  the 
Drug  Stores  are  afraid  to  sell  anything.  In  taking 
your  last  shuddering  Look  at  this  Relic  of  Barbarism, 
do  not  regard  it  altogether  as  a  Symbol  of  Physical 
Debasement.  Remember  that  it  is  also  a  Reminder 
of  a  Period  of  extreme  Benevolence,  during  which 
someone  was  always  Buying  for  somebody  else  and 
the  Golden  Rule  was  in  operation  right  up  to  the 
Closing  Hour.  You  cannot  understand  why  an 
enlightened  Community  put  up  with  a  Joint  of  this 
Woolly  Description  after  2,000  years  of  trying  to  be 
Civilized.  Probably  your  Children  will  wonder,  50 
years  hence,  why  we  lock  People  in  Jail  to  cure  their 
Moral  Infirmities." 

"I'll  say  that  I'm  fed  up  for  one  Day  on  the  low- 
down  Traits  of  our  deceased  Relatives,"  said  Anas- 
tasia.  "Lead  me  to  a  Mo  vie." 


THE  POLITE  POISON  COUNTER      273 

"That's  another  Item  that  you'll  have  a  hard  time 
explaining  to  your  Offspring,"  said  Uncle  Granby, 
as  he  led  the  way  into  the  cheerful  Sunlight. 

Moral:  Nothing  is  Improbable  until  it  moves  into 
the  Past  Tense. 


THE  FABLE   OF  THE  NINNY  WHO   SWAM  AWAY 
FROM  THE  LIFE  PRESERVER 

ONCE  there  was  a  Citizen  who  put  in  most  of 
his  Time  acting  as  Custodian  of  a  Thirst. 
He  could  inhale  through  a  Straw,  bury  his 
Nose  in  it  or  leave  it  flow  from  the  Original  Package. 

After  he  had  bombarded  the  Innards  with  Aqua 
Fortis  for  a  matter  of  20  years,  he  awoke  one  Morn 
ing  suffering  from  a  combination  of  Pin- Wheels, 
Moving-Pictures  and  a  General  Alarm  of  Fire. 

Doc  came  in  answer  to  a  Hurry-TJp  and  found  that 
he  was  on  the  Job  about  8  years  too  late. 

The  Patient  had  something  like  15  Things  the 
matter  with  him,  ranging  from  Cirrhosis  of  the  Liver 
to  Water  on  the  Brain,  although  the  latter  did  not 
sound  Reasonable. 

He  had  six  Weeks  in  which  to  settle  up  his  Af 
fairs  before  receiving  the  Wreaths  and  Pillows. 

During  that  time  he  chopped  on  the  Fire- Water 
because  he  somewhat  blamed  the  Old  Stuff  for  send 
ing  him  away  at  42  when  he  might  have  stuck  around 
to  be  87. 

His  Pals  came  to  see  him  just  before  he  winked  out. 

They  found  him  very  white  and  drawn  and  sort  of 
Aghast  at  the  Record  he  had  established. 
£74 


THE  NINNY  WHO  SWAM  AWAY     275 

After  the  funeral  the  Pall-Bearers  took  off  many 
Dark  Gloves  and  flew  at  the  High  Balls. 

One  of  them  expressed  the  Opinion  that  what 
killed  Jim  was  cutting  out  the  Stimulants.  The 
Shock  was  too  much  for  him. 

All  the  other  Diagnosticians  nodded  their  heads 
gravely. 

And  the  Host  went  to  the  Cellar  for  another  Load. 

Moral:  It  is  absolutely  Harmless  unless  Discon 
tinued. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  TWELVE-CYLINDER  SPEED  OF 
THE  LEISURE  CLASS 


I 


N  A  Town  where  Prunes  were  still   organized 

'    against  Grapefruit,  might  have  been  found  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Basker. 

He  had  controlling  Interest  in  a  soiled  Factory 
which  could  be  seen  from  the  Car  Window,  and  she 
was  proud  of  her  Geraniums. 

They  were  somewhat  better  than  Culls,  but 
neither  could  have  been  graded  as  Select  or  Fancy. 

He  had  Flowers  on  his  Suspenders,  and  she  was 
the  style  of  Lady  who  can  be  seen  almost  anywhere 
west  of  Pittsburgh,  sitting  in  the  back  seat  of  a  Ford. 

Although  he  went  to  the  Mat  with  a  big  Pay  Roll 
every  Week  End  and  she  was  in  all  parts  of  the 
Domestic  Establishment  at  the  same  time,  raising 
Children  by  hand,  putting  up  Fruit,  and  working  the 
Index  Finger  to  discover  traces  of  Dust,  they  seemed 
to  bear  up.  In  fact,  they  were  bursting  with  Rude 
Health. 

So  they  decided  to  take  a  good  long  Rest. 

It  came  about  in  this  wise : 

The  First-Born  was  back  from  the  Knowledge 
Works,  having  been  canned  by  the  Faculty  before 
he  lost  his  desire  to  be  In  Trade. 
£76 


THE  TWELVE-CYLINDER  SPEED     277 

Having  flopped  as  a  Glee-Clubber  it  was  supposed 
that  a  glorious  Career  awaited  him  in  the  Business 
World. 

Father  was  beginning  to  lean  on  him.  He  leaned 
so  hard  that  the  dutiful  Son  advised  him  to  try  a 
Vacation  of  10  or  15  years. 

Daughter  had  been  wished  onto  an  awful  Nice 
Young  Fellow  with  only  a  few  Bad  Habits. 

The  junior  Male  Offspring  was  in  an  Eastern  In 
cubator,  trying  to  hatch  out  as  a  Lawyer. 

For  the  first  time,  the  Old  Folks  were  unshackled. 

Then  came  the  scourge  of  War  and  a  juicy  Con 
tract,  and  the  Works,  instead  of  earning  a  beggarly 
14  Per  Cent.,  made  a  quick  Clean-up. 

It  became  known  as  one  of  the  Babies,  and  the 
Principal  Owner  had  the  Vertigo  every  time  he  tried 
to  figure  what  he  was  Worth. 

Mrs.  Basker  was  taken  with  a  rush  of  Money  to 
the  Head,  and  Father  likewise  began  to  mumble  in 
his  Sleep. 

She  discovered,  all  at  once,  that  she  could  not  walk 
down  Main  Street  without  encountering  two  or 
three  Hundred  representatives  of  the  Middle  and 
Lower  Strata  who  could  remember  when  she  had  to 
take  her  choice  between  wearing  a  Tarn  O'Shanter 
or  going  Bareheaded. 

So  she  went  to  see  an  eminent  Specialist  who  had 
Axminster  Rugs  and  Pink  Finger  Nails. 

He  was  billed  as  a  Practitioner,  but  he  was  really  a 
Booster  for  the  Pullman  Company. 


278 


THE  TWELVE-CYLINDER  SPEED     279 

He  laid  several  shiny  Utensils  against  the  Person 
of  Mrs.  Basker  and  discovered  that  her  Heart  was 
beating  and  that  she  had  a  Blood  Pressure. 

But  there  was  Hope  if  she  would  pick  up  and 
Travel,  accompanied  by  the  Chancellor  of  the  Ex 
chequer  and  a  French  Maid  named  Celeste. 

So,  after  years  of  placid  Toil,  the  Baskers  went 
on  a  terrific  Bat  in  an  effort  to  Relax  and  Recu 
perate. 

The  first  act  on  the  Bill  was  to  buy  seven  times 
as  many  delirious  Duds  as  they  could  find  Hooks  to 
hang  them  on. 

The  first  night  they  went  down  to  Dinner  in  New 
York,  one  of  them  felt  like  Gaby  Deslys  in  the  Third 
Act  and  the  other  looked  like  a  Safe-Blower  dis 
guised  as  William  Faversham. 

They  thought  they  were  regular  Begoshers — Mom 
a  Niff ,  and  Dad  a  Slicker. 

Oh,  how  soothing  it  was  to  sit  eight  feet  from  an 
orchestra  of  14  Pieces  and  watch  200  Couples  trying 
to  dance  in  a  Space  about  large  enough  for  the 
beating  of  a  Rug ! 

Mrs.  B.  resolved  to  be  a  Stepper. 

So  betweentimes,  and  when  not  being  Measured 
or  reading  the  Authorities  on  Bridge  or  else  having 
a  plain-faced  Giantess  knead  her  into  modern  and 
more  graceful  Outlines,  she  was  paying  a  Spidery 
Instructor  more  than  Woodrow  Wilson  received 
from  the  Government. 

Out  where  she  had  been  registered,  a  Lady  did  not 


The  first  night  they  went  down  to  Dinner  in  New  York 
one  of  them  felt  like  Gaby  Deslys  in  the  Third  Act  and  the 
other  looked  like  a  Safe-Blower  disguised  as  William 
Faversham 


280 


THE  TWELVE-CYLINDER  SPEED    281 

have  to  be  a  Perfect  Thirty-three  as  long  as  she  was 
Moral. 

In  the  wider  and  freer  life  of  the  Cosmopolites,  it 
often  seemed  that  Gold  Slippers  were  more  impor 
tant  than  a  Membership  in  the  Baptist  Church. 

She  studied  a  Standard  Work  on  Auction,  so  as  to 
avoid  being  trimmed  every  Afternoon.  It  was  just 
as  lucid  as  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy  in  the  original 
Sanskrit. 

She  steamed  herself  in  a  marble-lined  Bath,  sus 
tained  in  her  agony  by  a  Spartan  Determination  to 
look  less  like  a  Barnum  Attraction  and  more  like 
Pauline  Frederick. 

She  took  from  the  Professional  Trotter  until  the 
poor  overheated  Doggies,  encased  in  a  Size  two 
Numbers  under  the  real  Dimensions,  threatened  to 
explode  like  Shrapnel. 

Just  when  she  felt  like  Lying  Down,  she  would  have 
to  shift  Scenery  and  go  and  hear  somebody  Sing. 

There  are  only  35  or  40  People  in  America  who 
care  for  Good  Music  and  they  are  Aliens,  and  yet 
you  can  always  see  a  line  of  Limousines  in  front  of  a 
Concert. 

Mrs.  B.  was  in  Society,  and  she  had  to  Follow 
the  Leader  around  the  Corners  and  over  all  the 
Hazards. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Basker  nearly  ruined  themselves 
drinking  Tea.  It  looked  for  a  while  as  if  they  would 
get  to  liking  the  Darned  Stuff. 

The  fashionable  Vermifuge  who  had  touted  little 


282  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

old  Manhattan  as  a  Rest  Cure  certainly  got  the 
Basker  Outfit  in  very  Hollandaise. 

After  a  few  weeks  in  one  of  those  20-story  Excite 
ment  Factories,  with  day  and  night  Shifts  of  Hun 
garian  Fiddlers  and  all  the  other  Comforts  of  a  Mad 
house,  the  female  Pace-Maker  began  to  weaken  in 
the  Fetlocks  and  was  ready  for  another  trip  to  the 
Medicine  Man. 

She  worked  her  Pull  and  succeeded  in  getting  an 
Audience  with  one  who  knew  all  the  Germs  along 
Fifth  Avenue. 

He  told  her  the  climate  near  Forty-second  Street 
was  too  rigorous  for  one  of  her  delicate  Build  and 
she  had  better  beat  it  to  a  Playground  in  the  South. 

So  they  headed  for  the  Palms,  both  Itching  and 
Cocoanut. 

About  this  time,  the  Fortunate  Couple  began  to 
devote  all  their  Nervous  Energies  to  that  absorbing 
Pastime  known  as  "Watch  the  Bag." 

It  is  a  Game  unknown  to  salaried  Minions  but  a 
never-ending  source  of  Agitation  among  those  who 
are  painfully  Prosperous. 

The  Good  Woman  had,  by  Frugality  and 
Perseverance,  accumulated  over  two  Quarts  of 
Twinklers,  some  of  them  running  as  large  as 
Pecans. 

Her  job  on  Earth  was  to  keep  tab  on  the  Chamois 
Pouch,  because  the  moment  it  was  swiped,  she  would 
be  out  $90,000  and  practically  Nude. 

It  was  too  valuable  to  trust  to  Servants  who  were 


THE  TWELVE-CYLINDER  SPEED     283 

Stupid,  and  all  who  appeared  Bright  were  suspected 
of  getting  ready  to  frame  an  Inside  Job. 

The  Bag  could  not  be  left  in  a  Safe,  because  Madam 
had  to  wear  an  Assortment  to  Breakfast  and  another 
Constellation  at  Lunch  Time,  while  the  Dinner  Dis 
play  was  simply  Magnolius. 

Ma  loved  her  Trinkets,  but  she  knew  that,  sooner 
or  later,  she  would  be  tapped  on  the  Noodle  and  re 
lieved  of  the  whole  Works. 

We  find  the  two  haggard  Vacationers  in  a  large 
wooden  Hotel  resembling  five  or  six  Hotels  that  had 
run  together. 

Father  had  been  trained  to  crouch  like  a  Bird 
Dog  and  watch  the  Jewels  for  Hours  at  a  time,  and 
the  Job  was  beginning  to  pall. 

It  was  one  of  those  Resorts  at  which  the  Guests 
are  afraid  to  turn  in  at  Night  for  fear  the  Building  will 
burn  at  a  Time  when  they  are  not  Presentable. 

They  had  to  open  each  day  of  Relaxation  by  get 
ting  into  the  Dining  Room  before  it  closed. 

Then  they  hiked  back  to  the  Ten-a-Day  Attic 
and  made  up  for  the  first  General  Parade,  otherwise 
known  as  the  Veranda  Inspection,  under  the  control 
of  the  Enamel  Sisters  and  the  Jowl  Brothers. 

One  of  the  Unwritten  Laws  among  the  Elite 
was  to  lay  off  of  Alcoholic  Nourishment  until 
along  toward  Tiffin  Time,  after  which  it  was  con 
sidered  Good  Form  to  fly  at  it  with  outstretched 
Pinions. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Basker  sometimes  read  in  the  Paper 


284  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

that  the  whole  Country  had  gone  Dry,  but  it  did  not 
seem  Possible. 

Between  1  and  2  o'clock,  a  great  many  Ladies 
fixed  up  to  represent  the  Aurora  Borealis  or  a  Cream 
Puff  or  a  Zebra  or  something  like  that,  would  blow 
in  for  Luncheon,  one  at  a  Time,  and  delay  the  serving 
of  Food. 

Mrs.  Basker  would  give  the  Gimlet  Eye  to  each 
Zipper  and  then  rush  back  to  her  Apartment  to  slip 
on  something  a  little  more  Ultra. 

She  had  come  South  to  enjoy  herself,  and  she  did 
not  propose  to  be  shown  up  by  a  lot  of  Maudies. 

In  the  Afternoon,  she  wore  a  dainty  $900  Contri 
vance,  made  loose  and  sensible  around  the  Shoulders, 
so  that  she  could  either  watch  a  game  of  Tennis,  go 
riding  in  a  Roller  Chair,  or  lift  a  Slice  of  Lemon  into 
her  Young  Hyson. 

Along  about  Dusk,  all  of  the  Relaxers  showed 
an  earnest  Desire  to  round  out  a  Perfect  Day. 

The  Dollar  Princesses  began  to  get  on  their  most 
V-shaped  Lumties  and  the  Tired  Business  Men 
began  to  get  on  their  Brannigans. 

All  who  had  been  put  on  a  Diet  found  themselves 
attending  frolicsome  Dinner  Parties  at  which  any 
one  who  welshed  on  the  Bumpers  was  likely  to  have 
his  Name  stricken  out  of  the  Social  Register. 

After  a  14-hour  Day,  with  no  Let-Up,  the  poor 
tired  Slaves  of  the  Society  Column  would  escape  to 
the  Husks  with  nothing  to  worry  them  until  the 
Sun  showed  again. 


THE  TWELVE-CYLINDER  SPEED     285 

They  stood  it  for  quite  a  Spell  and  then  jumped 
800  Miles  to  a  Cure  recommended  by  One  who 
seemed  to  be  Refined  and  whose  Dog  had  become 
friendly  with  their  Dog. 

It  looked  like  an  Asylum  at  a  distance  of  a  Half- 
Mile,  and  it  did  not  altogether  stop  looking  like  an 
Asylum  after  you  got  a  good  Flash  at  the  Mugs  on 
the  Piazza. 

The  Rocking-Chair  Phalanx  of  Knitters  and 
Knockers  was  flanked  by  Gentlemen  of  uncertain 
age  who  sat  in  drooping  Attitudes  and  listened  to  the 
hardening  of  the  Arteries. 

The  Bathing  Facilities  gave  the  whole  Place  a 
Laundry  Smell,  complicated  with  suggestions  of  the 
Hereafter. 

The  Baskers  had  been  aching  to  go  to  Europe 
and  see  the  Ruins.  When  they  arrived  at  the  Spa, 
they  got  their  Wish. 

Mrs.  Basker  would  go  into  the  Oven  every  after 
noon  and  reduce  8  Ounces  and  then  hurry  to  the 
Grill  Room  and  put  on  a  Pound  and  a  Quarter. 

One  day,  Mr.  B.  wandered  out  to  what  was  called 
the  Golf  Course  because  it  was  no  longer  used  as  a 
Dump.  If  the  Flags  had  been  removed,  it  would 
have  been  a  Task  to  find  the  Greens. 

He  took  on  a  Crip  and  trimmed  him,  getting  one 
Hole  in  8,  which  was  only  5  above  the  Colonel. 

Everyone  said  it  was  a  Dandy  Game  for  a  Man 
above  55  who  was  a  good  Matchmaker. 

He  had  to  find  an  Occupation  or  else  go  Blooey,  so 


286  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

he  took  up  Golf,  or,  rather,  he  permitted  it  to  take 
him  up  and  carry  him  over  the  Mountains  and  down 
to  the  Seashore  and  up  into  Connecticut. 

If  one  had  looked  at  his  shiny  Scotch  implements, 
inspected  his  Knicker  Suit  with  the  fuzzy  Hose, 
and  computed  what  he  had  slathered  on  Lessons 
from  Jock  and  Sandy,  one  would  have  ventured  a 
Guess  that  here  was  a  True  Disciple  of  the  Ancient 
and  Honourable  Pastime. 

Then,  if  one  had  watched  him  founder  his  Drive, 
top  his  Second,  Third,  Fourth,  and  Fifth,  dub  his  Ap 
proach,  overrun  on  the  Long  Putt,  and  rim  the  Cup 
a  few  times  before  marking  himself  up  with  a  6,  one 
would  have  said  that  here  was  a  Bermuda  perhaps, 
but  some  Counter. 

Mr.  B.  justified  the  Phony  Stuff  on  the  Ground 
that  most  of  his  Opponents  were  retired  Business 
Men  who  had  been  Successful  and  he  had  to  protect 
himself. 

The  Happy  Couple  put  in  most  of  their  Time  on 
De  Luxe  Trains,  looking  for  Resorts  that  could  offer 
the  following  Advantages : 

A  Rate  high  enough  to  alarm  the  One-Trunk 
Tourist. 

A  House  Physician  who  could  show  Mrs.  B.  how 
to  stuff  and  grow  slender. 

A  Golf  Course  frequented  by  Neurasthenics  who 
would  be  Pie  for  any  one  with  a  Mark  of  120. 

A  Ballroom  supervised  by  someone  who  had  taken 
from  the  Castles. 


THE  TWELVE-CYLINDER  SPEED     287 

A  Suite  with  Southern  Exposure  and  Wail-Paper 
to  match  the  Complexion  of  the  Occupants. 

An  exclusive  Clientele  of  the  Kind  worshipped  by 
every  Sunday  Newspaper. 

A  Room  Clerk  with  lovely  Eyes. 

Sometimes  they  would  pull  into  a  Place  that 
looked  Fine  and  Dandy,  until  Mr.  B.  had  come  in 
3  down  and  Mrs.  B.  had  discovered  the  wrong  kind 
of  Jewellery  on  the  Person  at  the  Desk,  and  then  they 
would  have  to  gather  up  their  large  Boxes  marked 
with  Blue  Ribbons  and  the  Man  Servant  and  the 
terrified  Female  who  hooked  up  Mrs.  B.  and  away 
they  would  Hike. 

After  Folks  have  had  Money  for  18  months,  they 
know  Good  Service. 

No  one  can  Put  anything  Over  on  them. 

At  present,  they  are  visiting  the  Son  back  in  the 
Jay  Town  which  gave  them  a  Start. 

They  would  like  to  call  all  Bets  Off  and  stick  around 
a  while,  but  the  Doctor  has  ordered  them  to  Move 
on. 

There  are  two  Places  in  California  still  to  be 
tackled. 

After  that,  if  Europe  remains  closed,  they  will  be 
up  against  it  good  and  plenty. 

Moral:  Since  Money  became  Careless,  only  the 
Plutes  are  Homeless. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  SONG-BIRD  AND  THE  CYCLONE 

ONCE  there  was  a  Borough  that  had  to  em 
ploy  a  Guiding  Star. 
When  the  federated  Marching  Clubs  were 
assembled  in  a  Grove  with  several  Trees  in  it,  a 
Lawyer  stood  out  on  the  Rostrum  and  intoned  so 
effectively  that  little  Children  began  to  Cry. 

He  had  an  aquiline  Beak  and  the  raven  Locks 
stood  out  behind. 

He  and  an  Undertaker  in  Urbana,  Ohio,  and  the 
Capitalist  in  the  Movies  were  the  only  three  men  in 
the  World  still  wearing  Prince  Alberts. 

The  Loons  standing  around  in  their  Regalia  lis 
tened  to  the  symphonic  Vox  Humana  and  allowed 
that  he  was  Immense. 

The  Winds  of  Chance  played  upon  the  taut 
Strings  of  his  emotional  Nature,  producing  sweet 
Harmonies  which  have  no  Market  Value  but  are 
wonderful  to  listen  to. 

That  is  how  he  became  the  Whole  Cheese. 

He  sang  his  way  into  the  Job. 

In  a  short  time  everything  was  wrong-end-to,  al 
though  there  never  was  a  Moment  when  the  Thrush 
could  not  offer  voluble  Explanations. 

A  great  Crisis  impended. 
288 


The  Loons  standing  around  in  their  Regalia  listened  to  the 
symphonic  Vox  Humana  and  allowed  that  he  was  Immense 


289 


290  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  Community  had  to  marshal  all  Forces  and 
husband  all  Resources  and  direct  them  toward  an 
important  Result. 

The  hard  Necessities  of  the  Moment  did  not  call 
for  the  services  of  a  Nightingale,  so  the  aroused 
Citizens  told  the  two-legged  Ukulele  to  stand  aside 
and  make  room  for  a  quiet  Lad  with  steel-gray  Eye 
and  square  Chin. 

The  Ark  of  the  Covenant  came  through  without 
a  Scratch. 

After  all  the  Danger  and  Hard  Work  had  been 
put  behind,  the  Minstrel  Boy  emerged  from  the 
Cellar  and  brushed  himself  and  announced  that  he 
was  ready  to  go  back  on  the  Job. 

"Oh  Pish  and  a  couple  of  Tushes!"  exclaimed 
Public  Opinion.  "Sit  on  a  Limb  and  warble  but 
don't  come  near  the  Machinery." 

Moral:  Soldiers  were  not  the  only  ones  killed  of. 


THE  FABLE  OF  THE  BEWILDERED  MAVERICK 

ONCE  there  was  a  Single-Harness  Performer 
who,  at  the  age  of  22,  had  put  a  curse  on 
Women  because  a  Hat-Trimmer  threw  him. 

He  was  testing  his  Endurance  at  a  Hotel  patron 
ized  by  Stags  and  large  blonde  Ladies  who  tooth- 
picked  in  Public. 

He  was  past  45  and  in  great  Danger,  because,  the 
riper  they  are,  the  easier  they  fall  when  you  shake  the 
Tree. 

It  is  an  accepted  Fact  among  Writers  on  Zoology 
that  every  sun-dried  Bachelor  who  goes  to  the  Mat 
with  Club  Servants,  Pullman  Conductors,  Taxi- 
Drivers,  and  Elevator  Boys  still  believes  that  he 
would  be  a  dandy  Companion  for  any  Woman  of 
fair  Social  Position  and  a  little  Property  in  her  own 
Name. 

Ahead  of  him  the  sloping  Pathway  sinks  into  the 
dim  Grotto  of  a  lonesome  old  Age. 

Each  tree  is  a  Weeping  Willow. 

The  Mile-Stones  suggest  a  growing  resemblance 
to  Head-Stones. 

No  Traveller  ever  went  far  enough  into  the  Deep 
Woods  to  come  out  on  the  Other  Side. 

Is  it  any  Wonder  that  the  poor  Mullet  examines 

291 


292  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

the  Road  Map  with  growing  Apprehension,  and 
looks  furtively  for  a  Detour  which  will  land  him  al 
most  any  where  except  his  inevitable  Destination? 

It  is  the  Immune  who  always  has  the  highest 
Temperature,  and  the  Arctic  Explorer  catches  Cold 
if  he  sits  near  an  Electric  Fan. 

And  when  the  drooping  Has-Been  starts  in  to 
warm  over  Love's  Young  Dream,  he  thinks  he  has 
discovered  a  new  Recipe. 

The  aforesaid  Hotel  Gipsy  was  fed  up  on  the 
Camping-Out  stuff. 

He  began  to  show  a  shamefaced  Desire  to  discuss 
the  Forbidden  Topic  with  other  Social  Pariahs  ma 
rooned  in  the  Menagerie. 

Alienists  tell  us  that  this  is  the  first  Sign  of  a  gen 
eral  breakdown  in  the  Filbert. 

He  wouldn't  come  right  out,  but  a  good  deal  of  his 
Chatter  was  intended  to  carry  the  Suggestion  that 
Life  is  not  all  Lavender  to  one  who  has  to  stay  up 
every  Night  so  as  to  postpone  his  Creep  to  a  Cell 
overlooking  Steam  which  escapes  from  a  Laundry. 

After  the  Kelly  Pool  was  all  over  and  the  chalk- 
smeared  Pikers  were  wending  their  way  back  to  the 
Home  for  Neglected  Men,  he  would  observe : 

"Well,  any  Gink  that  spends  Twelve  Months 
out  of  Twelve  at  a  Garage  ain't  living,  that's  all. 
He's  simply  holding  out  on  some  good  Embalmer." 

Or,  on  a  Summer  Evening,  as  the  genial  Apaches 
sat  in  the  Open,  with  their  Armchairs  lined  up,  the 
old  Regular  would  spot  a  beaming  Householder 


THE  BEWILDERED  MAVERICK      293 

herding  his  Tribe  toward  a  Douglas  Fairbanks  Film, 
and  then  he  would  bust  loose  and  gurg  as  follows : 

"Heigh-ho!  Pipe  the  lucky  Stiff!  He's  got  it 
on  us  forty  ways  from  the  Jack." 

He  began  to  spill  Bromides  of  the  following  Pat 
tern: 

To  know  Life,  [pause]  one  must  know  Love. 

The  only  True  Happiness  is  that  which  we  share 
with  Others. 

The  Man  whose  chief  Concern  is  his  own  Physical 
Welfare  remains  forever  on  the  Outskirts  of  Exist 
ence. 

Worse  yet,  he  was  seen  buying  Sheet  Music,  Some 
thing  about  "The  Love-Light  in  your  Eyes,  my 
Baby  Doll." 

His  Comrades  in  Crime  finally  caught  the  Drift  of 
his  Sentimental  Oozings  and  begged  him  to  lay  hard 
with  his  Foot  on  the  Emergency  Brake. 

They  gathered  about  him  in  the  Office  of  the 
Eucalyptus  European  Hotel  and  told  him  to  look  at 
the  Wrecks  along  the  Shore  before  he  ordered  a 
Sailor  Suit. 

They  urged  him  to  wander  into  the  Park  any 
bright  Sunday  and  check  off  the  first  20  who  came 
along  pushing  those  folding  or  jack-knife  Perambu 
lators,  and  see  if  he  could  find  one  who  didn't  need 
a  Hair  Cut. 

They  suggested  that  it  would  help  some  if  he 
would  stand  on  any  Prominent  Corner  and  take  a 
Straw  Vote  of  all  the  stoopshouldered  Kind. 


294  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

They  reminded  him  that  a  lot  of  the  Boys  who 
might  have  claimed  Exemption  didn't.  When  a 
Guy  would  rather  fight  4,000,000  Boches  than  one 
Jane,  it  proved  something,  didn't  it?  They'd  say 
it  did. 

One  Pal  was  especially  frantic  in  his  efforts  to 
pulmote  the  Victim. 

"Get  this!"  he  said,  putting  a  Finger  all  the  way 
through  a  Buttonhole.  "When  I  was  attending 
High  School  at  Skinnersville,  we  had  a  Debate  on 
Friday  Afternoon.  I  spoke  for  20  minutes  on  the 
Affirmative  Side  of  the  following:  'Resolved,  that  the 
Planet  Mars  is  inhabited.'  What  did  I  know  about 
the  Planet  Mars?  Whatever  you  may  estimate,  it  was 
less  than  that.  All  right!  My  knowledge  of  the 
Planet  Mars  is  8  quarto  Volumes,  bound  in  Half 
Levant,  compared  with  your  Knowledge  of  Married 
Life.  Don't  you  know  that  every  Boob  who  has  a 
Hubbard  Squash  balanced  nicely  on  his  Collar  sooner 
or  later  wants  to  write  a  Comic  Opera,  buy  a  Gold 
Mine,  or  get  Married?  Don't  you?  The  Opera 
goes  into  the  Waste  Basket.  Any  Gold  Mine  can  be 
charged  off  in  the  Column  devoted  to  Ducks  and 
Drakes.  But  the  Matrimonial  Speculation — that's 
more  than  a  Flier.  Margins  don't  go.  The  Geek 
has  to  set  in  his  whole  Stack." 

"What  do  you  advise  me  to  do?  "  asked  the  Bache 
lor,  employing  a  tone  which  a  trained  Nurse  would 
use  to  a  wealthy  Patient. 

"  Do?     Get  some  inside  Dope  from  those  who  have 


THE  BEWILDERED  MAVERICK      295 

caught  the  Flossies  at  short  range.  Some  of  them 
are  not  afraid  to  Tell." 

So  we  find  our  Hero  traversing  timidly  that 
stretch  of  No  Man's  Land  lying  between  the  Vivid 
Haunts  of  Single  Misery  and  the  Concrete  Battle 
ments  of  Connubial  Uncertainty. 

He  got  some  dandy  Steers  from  a  cluster  of  Grass 
Widowers  infesting  a  Club.  They  had  taken  refuge 
in  the  Club  after  losing  their  Keys. 

They  told  him  to  control  the  Impulse,  if  possible, 
but  if  it  began  to  overpower  him,  then  the  only  Thing 
left  for  him  was  to  go  over  Niagara  Falls  in  a  Row- 
boat. 

They  admitted  that  Martha  Washington  got  along 
fairly  well  with  the  Other  Half  of  the  Agreement, 
but  they  couldn't  remember  another  Case  like  it 
since  then. 

They  said  that  every  Floribel  hopped  out  in  the 
Morning  with  only  one  Idea  hidden  under  the  Coif 
fure,  and  that  was  to  pick  out  some  new  Angle  from 
which  to  shoot  up  the  Check-Book. 

The  old  Retriever  kept  himself  Stony  Broke  all 
week,  and  then  had  to  stand  on  the  Carpet  of  a  Satur 
day  Evening  and  sign  Affidavits  that  he  hadn't  been 
spending  Money  on  Other  Women. 

His  Reward?  Every  Thursday  she  wished,  in  his 
Presence,  that  she  had  met  Donald  Brian  before 
the  latter  got  Married. 

The  Convalescents  told  him  to  count  whatever  he 
had  on  him  each  Evening  and  then  give  himself 


296  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Credit  for  that  Amount,  after  which  he  was  to  stand 
before  a  Mirror  for  several  Minutes  and  laugh  heart- 

ay. 

The  Seeker  after  Knowledge  was  almost  convinced 
that  only  one  Sex  could  be  trusted,  when  he  met  an 
old  Pal  of  Prep  School  Days,  moving  blithely,  as  if 
following  a  Military  Band. 

As  they  grappled,  the  former  Matie  opened 
up. 

"Don't  tell  me  that  you  are  still  an  Outcast!"  he 
exclaimed.  "Look  at  me  and  go  pink  with  Envy. 
Until  six  weeks  ago  I  lived  in  a  Hutch,  even  as  you. 
I  peeked  out  each  Morning  at  the  joke  Furniture 
and  began  to  brood  over  the  approaching  Ordeals. 
I  hated  to  get  up  and  renew  Association  with -the 
soiled  Menu  Card  and  read  over  the  same  old  phony 
Items,  knowing  all  the  time  that  Ham  and  Eggs  was 
the  only  Safe  Bet.  All  that  was  left  of  my  Soul 
revolted  at  the  sloppy  Service.  I  had  a  Loathing 
for  the  Dead  Faces  of  those  who  were  waiting  to  Bolt 
their  Helpings.  As  the  weary  Day  receded,  I  felt  a 
growing  dread  of  Nightfall.  If  I  do  say  it  myself, 
I  aspired  to  some  nobler  Avocation  than  Chair- 
Warming  with  those  who  were  no  longer  invited  to 
Christian  Homes.  I  failed  to  get  any  Uplift  from 
their  punk  Persiflage.  Now  I'm  living  out  where 
we  inhale  Ozone  instead  of  Cinders.  When  I  knock 
off  and  commute  myself  far  from  the  Temptation 
Zone,  I  know  that  the  Best  Little  Woman  in  the 
World  is  laying  out  the  Slippers  and  the  Pipe  and  all 


THE  BEWILDERED  MAVERICK      297 

the  other  Props  used  in  that  highly  successful  Pro 
duction  entitled  'Some  Home.'" 

"The  Picture  you  paint  is  the  one  I  have  been  see 
ing  in  my  Dreams,"  said  the  quivering  Bachelor. 
"I  knew  that,  somewhere  in  the  world,  there  must  be 
a  Married  Couple  still  in  favour  of  Marriage.  The 
Boys  up  at  the  Club  assured  me  that  the  whole 
Proposition  had  gone  Cold." 

"  You  never  will  get  a  real  Line  on  the  members 
of  the  Alimony  Club  until  you  talk  to  their  Ex- 
Honeys,"  said  the  Bridegroom.  "They  could  hand 
you  an  Earful  regarding  certain  Gentlemen  who  have 
been  Wronged.  No  matter  what  the  Women  did  to 
get  even  with  the  United  Order  of  Telephoners,  you 
can  lay  a  Bet  that  the  Proposition  is  no  worse  than 
Fifty-Fifty.  Don't  deny  yourself  the  One  Great 
Happiness  because  an  occasional  Darby  hears  the 
Call  of  the  Wild  and  goes  back  to  rally  round  the 
Head  Waiters." 

"Your  words  are  Music  to  my  Ear,"  said  the  In 
vestigator.  "Let  us  hope  that  you  didn't  Cop  the 
only  one  of  her  Kind." 

Back  to  the  Scoffers  went  the  happy  Convert. 
He  told  them  the  Story  of  Six  Weeks  in  Paradise. 

They  barked  at  him.  It  seemed  that  a  Newly  wed 
can  live  on  Marmalade  for  about  three  months,  but 
after  that  he  begins  to  hang  his  head  over  the  Fence 
and  admire  the  Clover  in  which  he  formerly  cavorted. 

The  Principal  Adviser  of  the  Group  prescribed  an 
Antidote. 


298  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

"You  know  a  good  many  that  are  serving  Time," 
he  said.  "Put  it  up  to  them.  Drop  in  on  them 
just  as  if  you  happened  to  be  passing  by.  Explain 
to  them  that  you  are  tired  of  Flying  and  ready  to 
Roost.  Ask  them  to  slip  you  a  little  Expert 
Testimony.  Tell  them  to  go  as  far  as  they  can 
without  tipping  their  Mitts.  Promise  them  that 
whatever  they  divulge  will  be  as  from  one  Brother 
Elk  to  another,  and  will  not  be  pulled  against  them, 
later  on,  in  the  Divorce  Court." 

So  the  Seeker  after  Truth  began  to  Make  the 
Round  and  Catechize  as  directed. 

Number  One  listened  attentively  and  then  replied : 

"So  you  contemplate  going  off  the  Spring-Board 
do  you?  How  very  interesting!  Suppose  we  make 
up  a  foursome  for  To-morrow  Afternoon." 

Number  Two  was  more  reassuring. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  said.  "Everyone  has  those 
Feelings  once  in  a  while." 

Number  Three  was  philosophical. 

"It's  like  this,"  he  explained:  "You'll  be  sore 
all  the  while  if  you  don't,  and  you'll  have  occasional 
Regrets  if  you  do.  I  think  I'd  toss  a  Coin." 

Number  Four  was  enigmatical. 

"Go  ahead  by  all  means,"  he  advised.  "That  is, 
if  you're  fond  of  Dogs." 

Number  Five  was  sympathetic. 

"You  look  Peaked  and  All  In,"  was  his  Comment. 
"Why  don't  you  spend  the  Winter  in  California?  I 
wish  I  could." 


299 


300  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

Number  Six  was  mysterious. 

He  simply  extended  his  Hand  and  said,  sepulchral- 
like, 

"Go  to  it." 

Secret-Service  Methods  did  not  seem  to  get  him 
anywhere,  so  he  began  some  smooth  Espionage  on 
his  own  Account. 

He  began  to  hint  around  that  he  was  fond  of  Home 
Dinners  and  succeeded  in  worming  his  way  into 
several  respectable  Homes,  wThere  he  could  size  up 
Domesticity  at  Short  Range. 

Mr.  and  Mrs  Abercrombie  seemed  to  be  getting 
along  Great.  They  were  more  than  Polite  to  each 
other  and  the  Eating  was  A  1.  He  discovered  a 
Servant  Problem  hovering  in  the  Background  but 
the  Layout  as  a  whole  made  the  Eucalyptus  Hotel 
look  like  a  Hovel  out  in  the  Fever  Swamps. 

The  Buswell  Family  interested  him  deeply  be 
cause  the  Union  had  been  blessed  just  about  100  per 
cent.,  as  nearly  as  he  could  figure  it. 

Our  Bachelor  Friend  was  very  fond  of  Children, 
having  played  with  one  in  the  Park  one  day  for 
nearly  Ten  Minutes. 

He  envied  the  BuswTells,  and  wished  that  he 
could  be  about  one-sixth  as  Fortunate  as  they 
were. 

A  few  Evenings  later,  he  envied  also  the  Cadburys, 
who  were  likewise  battling  with  Race  Suicide. 

At  the  Buswells',  all  the  Tokens  of  Mutual  Regard 
had  been  brought  to  the  Table,  and  our  Good  Friend 


THE  BEWILDERED  MAVERICK      301 

had  a  chance  to  see  what  a  two-year-old  Athlete  can 
accomplish  when  left  alone  with  much  Gravy. 

The  Cadburys  had  their  Covey  led  into  the  Show 
Ring  for  Inspection,  but  just  as  the  Maid  distributed 
the  Non-Skid  Cocktails,  the  Little  Ones  got  the 
Chivie  and  the  visiting  Barbarian  from  the  down 
town  Hotel  found  himself  marching  into  the  Dining- 
Room  with  a  Mrs.  Livermore,  who  had  suddenly 
appeared  from  Nowhere,  and  who  was  All  Right, 
whether  the  Albino  Mop  was  on  the  Square  or  not. 

The  little  group  of  Iconoclasts  down  at  the 
Eucalyptus  had  a  tough  Subject  to  work  on  when 
the  Bachelor  got  back  to  the  Bear-Pit  late  that  even 
ing,  with  a  Flower  in  his  Coat  and  a  delirious  Gleam 
in  the  Orbs. 

"Listen,"  said  the  Chief  Skeptic  and  would-be 
Rescuer:  "Don't  you  know  that  when  an  Outsider 
walks  into  the  Bird  Cage,  the  Inmates  immediately 
begin  giving  a  Theatrical  Performance  for  his  Bene 
fit?  Aren't  you  Wise  to  the  Fact  that  nothing  is  on 
the  Level  when  Company  is  present?  I  suppose  you 
think  Mr.  Cadbury  has  Brook  Trout  and  Alligator 
Pears  every  Meal?  You  got  a  Corona  with  the 
Coffee,  no  doubt.  That  means  he'll  be  back  to  the 
old  Brier  to-morrow  night.  I'll  tell  you,  the  only 
Way  you  can  get  the  Goods  on  Married  Life  is  to 
use  a  Dictaphone." 

After  the  Bachelor  had  hurried  to  his  Cell,  so  as  to 
get  the  Gardenia  into  a  Glass  of  Water,  the  Council 
of  Defense  had  a  Session  and  decided  that  extra- 


302 


THE  BEWILDERED  MAVERICK      303 

ordinary  Efforts  would  be  required  to  prevent  their 
Comrade  from  going  over  the  Precipice. 

They  were  all  set  to  work  on  him  next  Evening, 
but  he  had  gone  to  the  new  Movie  Theatre  with  Mrs. 
Livermore  to  see  "Hearts  Aflame." 

It  was  afterward  rumoured  that  she  picked  out 
the  Show. 

Yes;  you  have  guessed  it. 

She  was  a  Widow — the  real  Sod  Variety — and  she 
wanted  to  know  what  Securities  would  stand  up 
under  the  Strain  of  Reconstruction. 

She  seemed  to  be  looking  for  a  Good  Man  to  lean 
on. 

They  saw  him  after  that,  but  their  Conversation 
could  not  pierce  the  Trance. 

One  of  them  made  a  Bet  with  the  Night  Clerk  that 
he  could  not  be  Parlour-Broke,  but  the  Money  never 
passed. 

That  first  night  up  at  the  Cadburys  he  told  her  all 
about  the  Gang  and  their  Views,  and  not  one  of  them 
ever  saw  the  Inside  of  the  Flat. 

Moral:  If  the  North  American  Jay-Bird  chooses  to 
Mate  in  the  Autumn,  let  Nature  take  its  Course. 


THE   FABLE   OF   THE  RISE  AND   FLIGHT   OF   THE 
WINGED  INSECT 

MR.  FULGROVE  BLIMLEY  started  as  a 
Desk  Worm  and  finished  as  an  Asteroid. 
He  inherited  a  Few  of  everything — a  few 
Thousands  in  the  Bank,  a  few  bundles  of  Securities 
in  the  Tin  Box,  a  few  pieces  of  improved  Real  Estate, 
and  an  Office  at  which  a  few  chalk-faced  Fridays  sat 
at  a  few  quarter-sawed  Oak  Desks. 

He  went  to  call  on  Bertha  McGonnigle  a  few 
times,  and  next  we  find  him  purchasing  a  few 
necessary  articles  for  a  few  Offspring. 

Any  good  Forecaster  might  have  predicted  that 
the  light  of  Blimley  never  would  effulge  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  Eighth  Ward. 

He  seemed  cut  out  to  be  a  carrier  of  Pork  Chops 
and  a  mower  of  Lawns,  a  Porch  Warmer,  a  Peram 
bulator  Pusher,  a  passer  of  the  Contribution  Box,  a 
reader  of  Evening  Papers,  a  Furnace  Feeder,  a  Strap- 
Hanger,  a  believer  in  Government  through  the  moral 
Uplift  of  all  Persons  wearing  Goloshes  and  Wristlets. 

In  other  Words,  a  Deuce. 

But  you  never  can  tell  how  much  Heat  there  is  be 
hind  the  Asbestos  or  how  wildly  a  Heart  is  beating 
underneath  the  starched  White  Vest. 
304 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  WINGED  INSECT  305 

It  was  early  in  the  Game  that  Mr.  Blimley  became 
Hep  to  the  vital  Fact  that  no  matter  how  much  of  a 
Blob  a  man  may  be  in  his  own  Bailiwick,  he  becomes 
a  Mastodon  as  soon  as  he  is  80  miles  from  home  and 
wearing  a  Badge. 

So  it  is  better  to  ride  away  on  a  Special  Train  and 
be  a  Member  of  the  Committee  on  Credentials  than 
to  pace  back  and  forth  along  some  local  Cow  Path 
and  gradually  camouflage  oneself  into  an  uninspired 
Background. 

The  one  who  is  of  .22  Calibre  cannot  make  himself 
.38  by  Wishing,  but  if  he  stands  close  enough  to  the 
Camera,  he  will  look  like  a  .44. 

Fulgrove  Blimley  was  not  born  to  blush  Unseen. 
In  fact,  after  he  had  been  sitting  on  Platforms  and 
pulling  the  Chautauqua  Beam  on  helpless  Audiences 
for  a  few  Years,  he  forgot  how  to  Blush  at  all. 

Solitude  had  no  charms  for  the  Subject  of  this 
Sketch. 

He  loved  to  lope  with  the  Herd. 

The  Babble  of  many  Voices  as  Delegate  greeted 
Delegate  and  the  Joe  Millers  sped  from  Tongue  to 
Tongue  was  music  to  his  Listeners. 

He  relished  a  whiff  of  the  overcrowded  Assembly 
Hall. 

To  stand  beside  a  Table  bearing  a  Pitcher  of  Lec 
ture  Juice,  and  gaze  at  the  Wide  Eyes  and  pendulous 
Sub-Maxillaries  of  all  the  other  Beetles— Oh,  that 
were  Joy  enough  for  Fulgrove ! 

Admitting  that  there  is  no  cure  for  Conventionitis, 


306  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

let  it  be  said  in  the  same  Breath  that  the  Blimleys 
who  sleep  five  in  a  Room  with  the  Windows  down 
never  want  to  be  cured. 

One  of  the  inalienable  Rights  granted  by  the  Con 
stitution  to  every  Citizen  pulling  down  more  than 
$800  a  year  is  that  of  Membership. 

Fulgrove  looked  out  from  his  early  Obscurity  and 
discerned  many  Organizations  waiting  to  be  joined. 

It  came  to  him  that  every  Lodge,  or  Society,  or 
Union,  or  Club,  or  Association  needed  a  full  set  of 
Officers,  Delegates  to  Interstate  and  National 
Round  Ups,  Members  of  the  Banquet  Committee, 
some  one  to  wear  the  Ribbons  marked  "Reception," 
some  one  to  receive  the  Loving  Cup  or  the  Solid 
Silver  Service. 

His  first  working  Capital  was  a  connection  with 
a  Protestant  Sect  that  still  believed  in  Hell,  and  an 
inherited  affiliation  with  a  Political  Party  that  be 
lieved  in  whatever  sounds  all  right  in  the  Platform. 

You  have  no  idea  how  many  Brotherhoods  and 
Leagues  and  Unions  and  Alliances  a  busy  Blimley 
can  scare  up  inside  of  a  perfectly  good  Protestant 
Church  and  a  well-rooted  Political  Party. 

And  every  one  of  them  has  to  throw  a  Convention 
once  a  year  and  have  Group  Pictures  printed  in  the 
Newspapers  and  listen  to  an  Address  of  Welcome 
by  the  Mayor  and  raise  Cain  generally. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  Mr.  Blimley  came  into 
some  Real  Estate. 

Because  he  was  Custodian  of  two  Dwelling  Houses 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  WINGED  INSECT  307 

and  four  Vacant  Lots,  he  took  a  front  seat  in  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  and  was  a  Bright  Light  in 
the  Business  Men's  Booster  Club  and  Chairman  of 
the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Federation  of  Tax 
payers. 

It  may  be  urged  that  almost  any  small-sized  Gillie 
can  horn  his  way  into  a  Chamber  of  Commerce  or 
enlist  as  a  Booster  or  claim  the  doubtful  distinction 
of  being  a  Taxpayer. 

True,  but  Hearken ! 

Once  in  a  while,  or  ortener,  all  the  Chambers  of 
Commerce  get  together  for  a  Conference  at  Colum 
bus  or  Omaha  or  Atlantic  City,  and  then  there  are 
Tall  Doings,  with  Cabaret  Features. 

As  for  the  Boosters,  they  may  go  along  without 
attracting  much  attention  until  the  Governor  or 
Vice-President  or  somebody  like  that  looms  on  the 
Horizon,  and  then  they  leap  to  their  Places  and  be 
gin  naming  Committees. 

As  for  the  Federation  of  Taxpayers,  it  might  sud 
denly  be  called  upon  to  appoint  a  few  Spokesmen  to 
lay  certain  matters  before  the  Legislature,  and, 
naturally,  these  visitors  to  the  State  Capital  would 
be  interviewed  by  the  Newspapers  and  would  be 
seen  whispering  around  the  Hotels,  and  what  more 
could  any  one  ask? 

On  the  Farm  which  Mr.  Blimley  discovered  among 
his  Assets  were  several  kinds  of  growing  Crops  and 
some  of  the  best  known  varieties  of  Domestic  Ani 
mals. 


308  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

The  products  were  relatively  unimportant  except 
as  providing  Mr.  Blimley  with  a  bonafide  Pretext 
for  joining  every  Agricultural,  Horticultural,  Live- 
Stock  and  Conservation  Society  within  range. 

He  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  he  came 
as  near  to  being  a  Farmer  as  most  of  the  other  gentle 
manly  and  well-dressed  Faddists  who  were  plowing 
Corn  by  Proxy. 

If  Mr.  Blimley's  Fingers  seemed  to  be  a  trifle 
Spread  and  his  Hands  slightly  warped  out  of  Shape, 
it  was  because  every  whispering  Order  had  a  different 
kind  of  Grip,  with  much  interlocking  of  Digits,  pres 
sure  on  the  Wrist,  and  other  Hanky-Pank. 

Secret  Mottoes  and  Passwords  and  Grand  Hailing 
Signs  and  Signs  of  Distress  may  seem  to  be  Fol-de- 
Rol  and  Pish-Tush  to  cold-blooded  Skinics  but  they 
were  the  real  Paprika  to  old  Fulgrove. 

He  was  a  Joiner  from  away  Back  and  some 
Funeral  Attender.  By  the  time  he  was  35,  nothing 
seemed  to  give  him  greater  Satisfaction  than  the  sight 
of  a  well  laid-out  Corpse. 

And  he  could  truthfully  say  to  Friend  Wife,  any 
old  night  in  the  week,  that  he  was  due  at  a  Meeting 
and  the  Brothers  expected  him. 

The  more  Degrees  he  took  and  the  more  kinds  of 
Insignia  he  accumulated  to  wear  on  the  Watch- 
Chain  and  in  the  Cravat  and  through  the  Button 
hole,  the  more  he  craved. 

In  the  final  Stages  of  what  is  known  as  Fraternal 
Fever,  the  Victims  are  not  satisfied  with  belonging 


309 


310  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

to  all  the  Clans  listed  in  the  back  part  of  the  Direc 
tory. 

They  incorporate  and  apply  for  Charters  and  frame 
up  new  Rituals  and  have  a  simply  Wonderful  Time. 

If  Mr.  Blimley  had  found  himself  troubled  with  the 
Hives  and  had  learned  that  two  Neighbours  were 
similarly  afflicted,  he  would  have  called  a  Meeting 
of  all  such  Persons  as  were  differentiated  from  the 
ordinary  Run  of  Humanity  by  reason  of  their 
possessing  Nettle-Rash. 

Out  of  the  three  founders  of  the  new  Society  he 
could  have  selected  at  least  a  dozen  Committees. 

There  would  have  been  a  Constitution,  By-Laws, 
Ritualistic  Description  of  Inside  Stuff  and  Para 
phernalia,  and  an  Exposition  of  Symbols,  prepared 
in  Cipher. 

Suppose  the  secret  name  of  the  Brotherhood  to 
have  been  Philanthropic  Hive  Victims. 

Then  the  jeweled  Pin  worn  by  a  Member  would 
have  borne  the  mystic  Letters,  P.  H.  V.,  which 
might  mean  Parrots  Have  Voices,  Pickles  Help 
Violinists,  Pups  Hate  Vivisectionists,  Papa  Hires 
Veterinarians,  Please  Help  Violet,  or  any  other  Fool 
Thing. 

To  further  tantalize  and  mislead  the  Outsiders,  the 
official  Emblem  would  have  carried  an  engraved 
Representation  of  a  Hive,  which  might  easily  be 
mistaken  for  Pike's  Peak,  thereby  adding  to  its  Value 
as  a  part  of  the  oath-bound  and  underground  Bosh- 
marosh. 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  WINGED  INSECT  311 

The  Foregoing  may  sound  Pipey,  but  if  all  the 
Boys  who  Belong  could  violate  their  Solemn  Obliga 
tions  and  Snitch  on  what  happens  behind  the  Drawn 
Curtains,  it  would  come  out  that  most  of  the  Benevo 
lent  Ku  Kluxes  are  more  or  less  P.  H.  V. 

Why,  then,  do  the  Fulgrove  Blimleys  climb  a  dark 
Stairway  every  evening,  and  give  a  certain  number  of 
Raps  on  the  Door,  and  whisper  a  little  Bunk  through 
a  Peek-Hole,  and  do  other  Things  for  which  the 
High-School  Fraternities  are  severely  punished? 

The  Answer  is  that  eventually  each  Frater  who 
stays  on  the  Job  gets  a  chance  to  twinkle  at  the 
Olympian  Revels  in  the  Supreme  Conclave. 

When  first  he  is  despatched,  all  bathed  and  bar- 
bered,  as  Special  Emissary  of  the  home  Verein,  he 
tries  to  leave  the  impression  that  he  is  hard-working 
Patsy  and  serving  under  Protest,  but  after  a  few 
Pullman  rides  he  blossoms  out  as  a  shameless  Pro 
fessional. 

He  becomes  one  of  the  Minutemen  who  keep 
their  Grips  packed  and  are  ever  ready  to  sacrifice 
Private  Interests  and  step  modestly  into  the  Spot- 
Light. 

When  one  has  climbed  to  a  dizzy  Pinnacle  and  is 
Recording  Secretary  of  the  United  States  Poland- 
China  Breeders'  Association,  the  Wife  and  Children 
in  the  Valley  below  look  very  much  foreshortened. 

One  is  not  inclined  to  speak  in  disparagement  of  F. 
Blimley's  whetted  Ambitions  when  One  comes  to 
learn  that  the  Pomp  and  Glory  of  Conventions  are 


312  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

more  filling  than  Roast  Beef  and  more  exhilarating 
than  Cocktails. 

For  several  Days  previous  to  one  of  these  sublime 
Pow-wows,  it  could  be  seen  that  Mr.  Blimley  was 
working  himself  into  an  Exalted  Mood  and  ac 
cumulating  Steam. 

He  wrote  many  Letters  and  sent  cabalistic  Wires, 
mostly  in  regard  to  the  Election  of  Officers,  for  many 
a  benevolent  Order  is  8  per  cent.  Brotherly  Love  and 
92  per  cent.  Tomahawk. 

Then  there  was  the  annual  Report  of  the  Sub- 
Committee  on  the  Revision  of  By-Laws,  proposing 
the  Omission  in  Article  23,  Section  7,  of  the  Comma 
following  the  word  "Effervescent,"  and  the  sub 
stitution  therefor  of  a  Semicolon. 

That  meant  two  or  three  Days'  hard  work  in  the 
Library,  and  some  long-distance  'phoning,  because 
one  Faction  was  bitterly  opposed  to  the  introduction 
of  the  Semicolon,  claiming  that  it  would  involve  a 
distinct  departure  from  the  Traditions  that  had  been 
handed  down  in  the  Organization  ever  since  about 
1898,  which  meant  that  Blimley  and  the  other  fear 
less  Revisers  would  have  to  be  Alert  and  hold  their 
Forces  well  in  hand  and  be  prepared  instanter  to 
meet  and  repel  a  Covert  Attack  from  the  Reaction 
aries  and  those  who  submitted  blindly  to  the  Leader 
ship  of  Malcontents  who  were  not  in  touch  with  the 
Modern  Spirit  now  animating  the  Chapters  through 
out  the  Length  and  Breadth  of  the  Land  from  Ban- 
gor,  Maine,  to  San  Diego,  California. 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  WINGED  INSECT  313 

Hence  the  Necessity  of  getting  up  a  Report  that 
would  cover  all  the  Points. 

And  so  on. 

Then  the  portentous  Morning  would  arrive  when 
Mr.  Blimley  had  to  mobilize  himself  and  entrain, 
after  giving  due  Notice  to  both  of  the  Newspapers 
and  reminding  them  that  he  was  the  K.  M.  B.  of  the 
9th  Province. 

As  soon  as  the  Train  had  started  for  Mecca,  Dele 
gate  Blimley  would  move  down  the  Aisle  and  size 
up  his  Fellow  Passengers,  and  if  he  found  one  with  a 
recent  Hair  Cut,  he  would  take  a  Chance  and  flag 
him. 

If  the  Challenged  Party  responded  by  placing  the 
Right  Hand  on  the  Abdomen,  then  the  Challenger 
would  sit  alongside  of  him  and  begin  to  warm  his  Ear 
with  important  Dope. 

For  the  inside  Machinery  of  any  Association  of 
Indefinite  Purpose  and  the  apparent  Specific  Gravity 
of  a  Gas  Balloon  is  more  complicated  than  the  Rus 
sian  Political  Situation. 

If  a  lot  of  confirmed  Propagandists  start  for  the 
big  Camp  Fire  and  find  that  no  Business  of  Im 
portance  is  in  sight,  then  some  Comrade  always  gets 
busy  and  cooks  up  an  Issue  just  to  enliven  the  Pro 
ceedings. 

Usually  it  is  a  Resolution  either  approving  or 
panning  to  a  Whisper  something  geographically 
remote. 

Mr.  Blimley  seldom  left  home  without  carrying 


314  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

at  least  one  Resolution,  fully  loaded  with  Explosives 
and  supplied  with  a  Fuse. 

The  war  was  a  Godsend  to  the  Resoluters. 

Let  us  observe  the  eager  Pilgrims  alighting  at 
Union  Station. 

The  official  Greeters  rush  forward,  glad-handing 
with  the  Grip,  but  doing  it  well  Under  Cover,  so  that 
the  Station  Policeman  and  the  Man  on  the  Gate  will 
not  be  Next. 

Now  we  see  the  Guests  of  Honour  riding  to  the 
Hotel,  convoyed  by  busy  little  Explainers. 

A  few  hours  previous  they  had  been  inconspicuous 
Units  in  their  various  Tank  Towns. 

Now  they  are  visiting  Notables. 

Following  Registration  comes  the  proud  Moment 
when  the  Decoration  h  conferred  by  the  Royal 
Keeper  of  the  Hardware. 

As  soon  as  the  Honoured  Guests  are  tagged,  they 
are  sent  out  for  Exhibition  Purposes. 

The  metallic  portion  of  an  Official  Badge  seldom 
weighs  more  than  a  half-pound,  and  the  unobtrusive 
Lettering  of  Gold  on  Blue  Satin  is  surmounted  by 
only  a  few  inches  of  Tassel,  and  yet  this  simple 
Decoration  seems  to  transmogrify  the  Provincial 
and  make  him  a  Dinger. 

In  the  overcrowded  Office  or  Main  Corral,  Mr. 
Blimley  found  the  familiar  Sights  which  are  the  Joy 
and  Reward  of  every  Badge-Bug. 

He  saw  the  Paper  Suitcases  piled  in  Barricades,  the 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  WINGED  INSECT  315 

Struggle  for  Picture  Post-Cards,  the  Brother  from 
Kansas  who  has  slaked  a  long  Thirst  and  passed 
away  sitting  up,  the  haggard  Clerk  ordering  the 
Porter  to  unfold  more  Cots. 

He  loved  to  hear  the  Boy  paging  "Mister  Flooh- 
flah"  and  the  shrill  cry  of  "Front!"  and  the  shuffle! 
of  Feet. 

Then  the  Important  Conference  in  Brother  Felix 
McClure's  Bedroom  and  the  Decision  to  bring  in  a 
Minority  Report  and  fight  it  out  on  the  Floor  of  the 
Convention. 

There  never  was  a  national  Snake-Dance  at  which 
something  or  other  didn't  have  to  be  fought  out  on 
the  Floor  of  the  Convention. 

When  Brother  meets  Brother,  then  somebody 
gets  bit  in  the  Arm. 

Let  us  not  forget  the  long  wait  for  Food  in  the  dis 
organized  Restaurant,  the  65  minutes  of  Drool  by  the 
Past  Grand  Wallopus,  the  triumphant  substitution 
of  the  Semicolon  for  the  Comma,  and  the  Automobile 
Tour  of  the  City,  with  little  Boys  cheering  and  all  the 
Lads  from  Oof  Center  and  Silo  sitting  back  trying 
to  appear  unmoved  and  unconcerned. 

Will  Mr.  Blimley  order  one  of  the  Flash-Light 
Photographs  taken  just  before  the  Stevedores  bring 
in  the  Warm  Oysters  and  the  Cold  Soup? 

Aye,  that  will  he,  provided  the  Picture  finds  him 
prominently  in  the  Foreground,  and  it  is  pretty  hard. 
for  a  Picture  to  find  him  anywhere  else. 

What  if  Blimley  does  return  home  with  his  Feet! 


316 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  WINGED  INSECT  317 

pointed  in  the  wrong  Direction  and  the  Lamps  a 
mite  bleary  and  Cinders  under  the  Collar? 

He  can  truthfully  report  to  the  Missus  and  to  the 
Local  Branch  that  the  Show  was  an  enormous  Success 
and  an  Inspiration  to  all  the  Faithful. 

Moral:  Some  are  born  Great;  some  achieve  Great 
ness,  and  others  have  it  pinned  on  them. 


THE  FABLE  OF  WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR  AND 
WHAT  WAS  DELIVERED  TO  THEM 

BA.CK  in  the  dear  old  Days  when  the  Auto 
graph  Album  outranked  a  Treatise  on  Birth 
Control,  Luella  and  Chester  sat  in  a  Sea- 
Grass  Hammock,  discussing  Plans  for  certain  im 
pending  Nups. 

"Oh,  Ches!"  murmured  She,  for  all  this  happened 
back  Yonder,  when  the  Seminary  Sirens  were  prone 
to  Murmur  instead  of  Explode.  "Oh,  Ches!  Would 
that  we  might  plight  our  Troth  in  some  secluded 
Spot,  far  from  the  Madding  Relative." 

"E'en  so,"  assented  the  Doomed  Man. 

He  was  keen  for  the  Omar  Stuff. 

So  they  framed  up  just  the  variety  of  Wedding 
that  would  suit  them  down  to  the  Ground. 

After  getting  the  Permit,  they  would  jog  down  a 
Country  Lane  shaded  by  friendly  Elms  and  spangled 
with  Spring  Flowers. 

Finally  they  would  come  to  a  little  Cottage  set 
back  in  a  Bower. 

The  Specifications  absolutely  called  for  a  Bower. 

Within  the  cheery  Bungalow  they  would  find  a 
Minister — the  kind  getting  $600  a  Year  and  the 
Tonsilitis. 

318 


WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR   319 

He  was  to  perform  the  Ceremony  in  the  Open 
with  the  climbing  Dorothy  Perkins  as  a  Background 
and  the  Peewees  twittering  overhead. 

No  grinning  Ushers;  no  hired  Organist  to  tear  the 
Lining  out  of  Mendelssohn;  no  small-town  Comedy 
by  the  Rice-Throwers. 

After  they  had  settled  all  the  Details  which  were 
to  shed  Idyllic  Glamour  over  the  most  tantalizing 
of  all  Ventures,  they  dressed  up  like  a  couple  of 
Zebras  and  were  taken  away  in  Hacks  to  the  Second 
Presbyterian  Church. 

They  had  to  walk  a  Mile  and  a  half  along  a  be- 
ribboned  Aisle  bordered  with  Eye-Balls  and  then 
pull  the  main  Stunt  on  a  raised  Platform  similar  to 
the  one  used  for  Hangings  at  the  County  Jail. 

Then  the  Reception,  with  the  never-ending  Battle 
between  Perspiration  and  Powder,  and  Male  Guests 
throwing  Solid  Formation  against  the  Grape. 

They  longed  to  execute  a  Sneak  and  get  away 
somewhere  and  hold  Hands  and  talk  mushy,  but 
Tradition  interposed  and  dragged  them  to  Niagara 
Falls. 

Luella  and  Chester  grew  up  in  a  Residence  District 
where  the  cast-iron  Fountains  spouted  and  the 
Dinge  driving  My  Lady's  Victoria  wore  what  was 
known  in  1881  as  a  Plug  Hat. 

They  belonged  to  a  Set,  which  was  carefully  gov 
erned  by  the  kind  of  Label  Worshippers  abounding 
in  any  Street  that  had  Grille  Fences  and  Cathedral 
Glass  in  the  Windows. 


I 


820 


WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR   321 

They  inherited  a  couple  of  Social  Positions. 

A  Social  Position  is  something  like  a  Pekingese 
Pup.  It  is  to  be  preserved  and  petted  and  combed 
out  and  kept  away  from  Draughts  and  exhibited  and 
referred  to,  but  even  the  envied  Owner  sometimes 
is  in  Doubt  regarding  the  Bed-rock  and  intrinsic 
Value. 

Chet  and  Lou  knew  exactly  the  kind  of  Shack  that 
would  fit  their  Ambitions  and  Requirements. 

They  agreed  that  it  should  not  be  Large,  because 
one  of  those  barnlike  Structures  never  seems  homey 
and  it  is  a  great  Care  and  too  many  Domestics  are 
needed. 

They  preferred  a  Snuggery  just  big  enough  to  keep 
the  Canary  from  crowding  the  Piano. 

Chintz  Curtains  and  some  old  Prints  and  deep 
Armchairs  and  a  few  Books  on  the  Table  were  what 
they  craved. 

So  they  took  a  House  which,  if  you  saw  it  from  a 
Distance  down  the  Street,  could  be  mistaken  for  a 
Deaf  and  Dumb  Asylum. 

It  had  a  large  and  frigid  Hallway  with  shiny  Stairs 
leading  to  Realms  above. 

The  Ceilings  were  heavily  molded,  and  in  the  cen 
ter  of  each  was  a  dangling  Chandelier  of  intricate 
Design  and  dripping  with  Crystal  Dewdads. 

The  Furniture  was  of  a  refined  Character,  having 
Pineapples  and  Acorns  carved  in  the  most  unexpected 
Places. 

All  the  Curtains  hung  from  the  Rods  in  a  decidedly 


322  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

perpendicular  manner,  admitting  just  enough  Light 
to  show  up  the  Rose  Pattern  in  the  Rugs. 

The  Decorations  belonged  to  that  evolutionary 
Period  in  which  High  Ceilings  and  Paintings  in  Oil 
were  supposed  to  atone  for  the  absence  of  Splash 
Parlours. 

Luella  would  sit  in  one  Cavern  for  a  while  and  then 
move  to  another,  all  the  time  wondering  if  the  Ser 
vants  were  Honest. 

She  and  the  Pay  Envelop  had  some  definite  No 
tions  of  what  they  liked  in  the  way  of  a  Commissary. 

It  seemed  to  them  that  the  principal  Idea,  when 
leaning  on  the  Table-Cloth,  was  to  snare  some  appe 
tizing  Food  instead  of  merely  getting  one's  Name  in 
the  Papers. 

It  fussed  them  quite  a  bit  to  be  compelled  to  Feed 
themselves  under  the  scrutiny  of  Comparative 
Strangers. 

He  was  never  so  happy  as  when  facing  a  Platterf ul 
of  something  prepared  in  a  Skillet. 

But  they  could  not  get  away  from  the  cruel  Edict. 

The  hot  Branding-Iron  of  Social  Eminence  had 
burned  deep  into  the  Mayflower  Cuticle. 

They  were  elected  to  suffer  assorted  Agonies  by 
reason  of  living  High  among  the  Chosen. 

If  a  Harvard  Professor  of  Ransipology  or  some 
Main  Shriek  in  the  Suffrage  Movement,  or  a  hairy 
Musician  with  a  goulash  Moniker,  or  some  pale 
Ex-Journalist  who  had  been  careless  enough  to 
write  a  Book,  crossed  the  Corporation  Line,  Luella 


WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR   323 

"i 

and  Chester  were  always  among  the  Angoras  who 
had  to  put  on  their  Fifth  Avenue  Feathers  and  go  and 
eat  Soup  with  the  Celebrity. 

And,  Gosh,  how  they  dreaded  it ! 

Sometimes  they  subsisted  for  Weeks  at  a  time  on 
Caviar  and  Sweetbreads  and  Artichokes  and  Bosom 
of  Partridge. 

Often  they  wondered  if  they  would  ever  get  off  by 
themselves  to  renew  acquaintance  with  Pig's  Knuck 
les  and  Spring  Onions  and  Griddle-Cakes. 

But  this  substitution  of  Menu  for  Grub  was  not 
the  chief  Hardship  wished  upon  the  worthy  Couple. 

They  had  to  be  ready,  at  the  Drop  of  a  Hat.  to 
burst  into  Small  Talk. 

They  had  to  feign  Interest  in  People  and  Events 
far  removed  from  the  Orbits  in  which  they  wished 
to  settle  down  and  be  comfortable. 

The  Master  and  Missus  had  no  kick  to  register 
because  Mascagni  wrote  a  new  half -portion  Opera 
once  in  a  while,  but  they  couldn't  understand  why 
they  were  expected  to  get  all  lathered  up  about  his 
occasional  Outburst. 

It  was  supremely  Immaterial  to  them  if  G.  B.  S. 
poured  scalding  Rhetoric  over  a  Prime  Minister,  or 
the  Russians  put  on  a  new  Riddle  in  the  form  of  a 
Dance,  or  Mrs.  Goey-Whizzer  resigned  from  the 
Executive  Council  of  the  D.  A.  R.,  or  if  a  Norwegian 
Novelist  was  suddenly  discovered  by  a  tall-brow 
Critic,  or  if  the  Federation  of  Clubs  got  dead-locked 
over  a  new  By-Law. 


WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR   325 

But  they  had  to  keep  posted  on  all  this  Flub  so 
they  could  answer  Questions  when  they  were  out 
among  the  Alrnost-Intellectuals. 

The  Time  which  might  have  been  devoted  to 
playing  Pool  or  putting  up  Fruit  had  to  be 
wasted  on  reading  Magazines  that  are  a  weariness 
to  the  Flesh,  unless  it  happens  to  be  Proud 
Flesh. 

Every  Girl  who  has  earned  the  title  of  Patroness 
is  a  Pinkerton  when  it  comes  to  spotting  a  Bad  Break 
or  detecting  a  Fumble. 

Among  the  talcum-powder  Tararas  it  is  permissible 
to  play  Tag  with  any  one  of  the  Commandments, 
but  the  Dear  Friend  who  pulls  a  Faux  Pas  gets  the 
quivering  Harpoon. 

So  that  Luella  and  Chester,  after  coaching  them 
selves  for  each  Appearance  in  the  glittering  Arena, 
always  came  home  to  lie  awake  and  try  to  remember 
if  they  had  gummed  up  their  Averages. 

They  knew  that  even  the  most  favored  members 
of  the  Holy  Inner  Circle  of  Hot  Babies  drew  an  occa 
sional  Fricassee  for  stubbing  the  Toe. 

So  they  had  a  reasonable  Hunch  that  they  were 
getting  Theirs  on  the  Q.  T. 

Consequently  they  read  more  Magazines  and  kept 
their  Fingers  crossed  all  the  time  they  were  encased 
in  Evening  Raiment. 

The  Supposition  that  People  with  Money  can  do 
as  they  please  revealed  itself  as  a  grim  Delusion. 

The  Laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians  were  pliable 


326  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

as  Spaghetti  compared  with  the  unyielding  Ultimata 
of  the  moon-faced  Matrons. 

Luella  and  Chester  loved  to  sit  by  the  Fireplace 
and  watch  the  Persian  Kitten  fall  asleep. 

Consequently  they  had  their  Home  crowded  a  few 
Nights  every  week  with  Human  Piccolos. 

Having  a  natural  preference  for  deep  Calm,  they 
found  themselves  jumping  sideways,  in  emulation  of 
Hectic  Homer  and  Hysterical  Hattie. 

After  the  Children  arrived  and  surveyed  their 
Surroundings  with  a  Disappointment  not  artfully 
concealed,  Luella  thought  it  was  her  Duty  to  stick 
around  Home  a  good  part  of  the  Time  so  as  to  let  the 
Kiddies  know  that  she  was  related  to  them. 

However,  it  was  not  being  Done. 

The  Olive  Branches  were  turned  over  to  imported 
Police  Officers. 

They  were  permitted  to  breathe  a  delightful  third- 
rate  Foreign  Atmosphere. 

An  occasional  Echo  of  War  in  the  region  of  the 
Nursery  reminded  Luella  and  Chester  that  they  were 
not  childless. 

Chester  heard  the  Call  of  the  Woods  every 
Summer. 

Sitting  at  his  Desk,  he  day-dreamed  of  cool  Lakes 
that  never  had  been  fished. 

To  wear  Corduroys  and  a  Flannel  Shirt,  to  get  out 
in  a  Rowboat  with  a  Guide  who  never  heard  of  Gals- 
Worthy,  to  taunt  the  tricky  Bass  and  induce  them  to 
Strike,  and  then  to  land  on  some  Island  enveloped 


WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR   327 

in  solemn  Stillness  and  build  a  Fire  and  have  a  Fry — 
that  was  the  kind  of  Outing  for  which  he  yearned, 
and  yearned  to  no  Effect. 

Luella  was  dead  willing  to  go  back  to  Nature  with 
him. 

Collecting  Leaves  and  Flowers,  hunting  up  the 
Botanical  Names,  and  then  Pressing  the  Specimens  in 
an  unabridged  Dictionary  would  have  satisfied  her 
utmost  craving  for  Dissipation. 

Very  often  they  took  imaginary  Camping  Trips, 
sleeping  under  the  Stars,  miles  and  miles  from  a 
Tea-Urn  or  a  Macaroon. 

Nevertheless,  notwithstanding,  and  in  spite  of  all 
these  modest  and  sane  Proclivities,  every  June  saw 
them  doing  the  Lock-Step  out  to  a  Summer  Colony 
that  was  just  as  restful  as  the  Firing  Line. 

If  Mrs.  Beezum  pulled  a  Moving-Picture  Show, 
then  Mrs.  Gazoontz  gave  a  Vaudeville  under  a  Tent, 
whereupon  Mrs.  Plazinsky  would  arouse  herself  and 
come  across  with  a  Water  Fete,  and  then  the  Jinks- 
Brewsters  and  the  Hooper-Fergusons  and  the  Watts- 
Plummers  would  burst  forth  into  a  perfect  Frenzy 
of  Luncheons  and  Moonlight  Dances  and  Tableaux 
Vivants,  calculated  to  outdo  and  show  up  the  un 
hyphenated  Second-Raters. 

Many  a  would-be  Recluse  found  himself  cutting 
Didoes  among  the  Whirling  Dervishes. 

Chester  and  Luella  tried  to  go  along  with  the 
Steeplechasers,  although  they  were  pulled  up  Lame 
about  half  of  the  time. 


328  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

He  would  go  to  Town  and  pick  off  enough  Cur 
rency  to  meet  the  Bills  and  then  escape  for  some 
ostensible  Relaxation,  only  to  find  himself  booked 
for  a  series  of  day  and  night  Appearances  over  the 
Madhouse  Circuit. 

Any  time  he  looked  out  of  the  Window  and  saw  a 
lot  of  Suspicious  Characters  in  the  Sunken  Garden, 
he  didn't  know  whether  they  were  intruding  Sight 
seers  from  the  Village  or  merely  House  Guests. 

So  far  as  he  could  make  out,  the  only  difference 
between  his  Country  Place  and  a  Roadhouse  was 
that  the  Roadhouse  had  to  close  at  a  certain  Hour 
and  kept  a  Bouncer  to  drag  away  those  who  failed 
to  stand  up  against  the  Scotch. 

The  Doctor  told  him  to  Motor. 

Luella  loved  the  Open  Road,  and  both  of  them 
thought  that  25  miles  per  Hour  was  a  reasonable 
Speed  Limit. 

They  wanted  to  admire  the  Scenery. 

So  they  would  start  like  Barney  Oldfield  and  finish 
like  Ralph  De  Palma,  and  while  they  were  boring 
a  hole  in  the  dusty  Atmosphere,  they  would  picture 
in  the  Mind's  Eye  the  bold  Head-lines  in  the  Morn 
ing  Paper. 

They  had  the  Premonish  that  on  some  hazy 
Autumn.  Afternoon  they  would  be  smeared  over  the 
Landscape. 

The  only  Uncertainty  was  whether  or  not  the 
Trimmings  would  be  sufficiently  grewsome  to  war 
rant  a  First-Page  Story. 


WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR   329 

"But,"  interjects  some  one  who  does  not  own  a 
Car,  "why  did  not  the  Owner  put  his  Foot  down  and 
insist  upon  a  leisurely  number  of  Miles  per  Hour?" 

Following  the  same  Line  of  Inquiry,  why  did 
Chester  and  Luella  go  without  Butter  at  Dinner 
when  they  were  both  dying  for  it?  Because  they 
could  not  bear  up  under  the  sniffy  disapproval  of  the 
autocratic  Simpson. 

Why  did  Luella  go  about  with  her  Hair  freaked 
up  into  funny  Knobs  and  Ocean  Waves?  Because 
if  she  had  insisted  on  doing  it  up  her  own  Way,  the 
French  Maid  would  have  walked  out  and  left  her 
Flat. 

Why  were  they  afraid  to  send  an  humble  Request 
to  the  Kitchen  for  Fried  Steak  or  Pickled  Beets? 
Because  they  could  not  afford  to  lower  themselves 
in  the  Eyes  of  the  24-carat  Chef. 

It  was  after  the  Up-Country  Menagerie  had  been 
sealed  for  the  Winter  and  all  the  Joy  Birds  had 
migrated  back  to  the  Smoke  Belt,  that  our  Good 
Friends  suffered  most  keenly. 

Both  were  Show  Fans.  They  did  not  hone  for 
Operas  with  20-minute  recitative  Solos,  or  Problem 
Plays  that  smelled  like  the  Surgical  Ward  or  gabby 
Society  Comedies  tinctured  with  pale  Blue. 

They  liked  Ragtime  and  Soft-Shoe  Work  and  Local 
Gags  and  a  Chorus. 

Luella's  favourite  Actor  was  Fred  Stone,  and  Ches 
ter  was  always  trying  to  find  some  one  who  could  tell 
him  more  about  Nora  Bayes. 


330  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

So  when  they  had  picked  out  a  Night  to  call  on 
Fred  or  Nora  or  possibly  Mclntyre  and  Heath  or 
Joe  Cawthorne  or  Frank  Tinney  or  some  Artist  worth 
while,  they  would  find  themselves  in  a  Box  at  the 
Opera  waiting  for  Galli-Curci  to  come  on  and  yip 
for  a  couple  of  Hours. 

The  Plain  Enjoyments  of  the  Middle  Class  were 
always  dangling  ahead  of  them  but  always  out  of 
Reach,  no  matter  how  rapidly  they  followed  in  Pur 
suit. 

Take  the  item  of  Travel. 

Before  the  recent  War  was  forced  upon  a  timid 
and  unsuspecting  Kaiser,  it  was  supposed  that  any 
one  with  a  Bank  Account  could  go  to  Foreign  Parts 
and  linger  indefinitely. 

How  about  the  Stockholders  to  be  protected? 

How  about  a  man's  Duties  to  the  Directors  who 
had  put  him  at  the  Helm? 

How  about  the  possibility  of  some  Flurry  that 
might  disturb  normal  Conditions  and  disarrange 
Values? 

Chester  and  Luella  looked  at  all  the  Maps  and 
Folders  showing  Honolulu  and  Singapore  and  Port 
Said  and  Gibraltar,  and  then  they  compromised 
every  Summer  by  going  back  to  their  country  home, 
"Neurasthenia,"  where  Chester  could  sleep  with  a 
Telephone  tied  to  his  Ear. 

When  Chestei  was  about  58  years  of  Age,  with  a 
Trained  Nurse  sitting  alongside  of  his  Bed,  he  would 
look  up  at  the  Ceiling  and  figure  that  he  had  broken 


WHAT  THEY  HANKERED  FOR   331 

all  the  World's  Records  for  going  to  Places  that  one 
does  not  wish  to  visit,  eating  Stuff  that  one  does  not 
crave,  drinking  Fluids  that  guarantee  naught  except 
Remorse,  buying  Tickets  for  Pseudo-Entertainments 
of  punk  Aroma,  and  sitting  for  countless  Hours 
among  dull  Mortals  of  uniform  Pattern  and  incredi 
ble  Unattractiveness. 

He  wondered  if  there  was  anything  in  this  Re- 
Incarnation  Business. 

Because,  if  it  happened  to  be  on  the  Level,  he 
wanted  to  come  back  next  time  as  a  Native  of  some 
Tropical  Isle  that  never  heard  of  Place-Cards  and 
Long-Distance  Calls  and  Drinks  containing  Ver 
mouth  and  Ladies  with  powdered  Wishbones  and 
Crooks  who  call  themselves  Financiers  and  Reporters 
employed  on  Evening  Papers  and  1001  other  Tor 
ments  which  had  become  By-Products  of  a  so-called 
Civilization. 

He  wanted  to  wear  a  Breech-Clout  and  sit  under 
a  Mango  Tree  all  day  listening  to  the  Parokeets. 

If  any  one  approached  to  talk  Business  or  Politics, 
he  would  shoot  poisoned  Arrows  at  the  Trespasser. 

When  he  got  hungry,  he  could  pick  a  Banana,  and 
if  he  felt  thirsty,  he  could  tap  a  Cocoanut. 

Just  before  he  fluttered  to  the  Beyond,  he  whis 
pered  to  Luella  his  Desire  for  a  Quiet  Service  without 
Flowers  and  Interment  in  some  sylvan  Nook. 

The  Widow  conferred  with  his  Business  Associates, 
the  Officers  of  Various  Clubs  to  which  he  paid  Dues, 
and  the  Committees  from  the  Fraternal  Organiza- 


x 


332  HAND-MADE  FABLES 

tions,  and  they  decided  that  Chester  had  been  so 
much  of  a  Public  Character  that  he  was  entitled  to  a 
regular  Barnum  &  Bailey  Funeral.  So  they  took 
him  to  the  Church  and  had  honorary  Pall-Bearers 
and  Mountains  of  Hothouse  Bloom  and  a  special 
Choir  with  Voices  trained  in  Italy. 

He  was  buried  on  a  Hilltop,  and  his  Resting-Place 
is  marked  by  a  Memorial  Shaft  resembling  a  Smoke- 
Stack  that  has  been  whitewashed. 

Luella  has  no  way  of  knowing,  but  she  surmises 
that,  inasmuch  as  he  always  wanted  a  Harp,  he  is 
now  playing  a  Pipe  Organ. 

Moral:  Every  Man  is  the  Architect  of  his  own  For 
tunes,  but  the  Neighbours  superintend  the  Construction. 


THE   END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
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